Escape to New England
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: She'll always be his extraordinary KB. With or without her badge. AtW IV.
1. Chapter 1

_For those of you who didn't follow from the beginning, this is the 4th story in a series. It's not necessarily a must for you to read the others, but it may be helpful. Or you could just read it to see how their relationship got to this point. Completely up to you!_

* * *

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 1_

. . . . .

Crisp cold air made it very difficult to get up, so when Kate Beckett's eyes fluttered open in the chilly dark, she immediately curled tighter into her bedmate's body. He shifted, wrapping his arms around her tightly and bringing her over his chest. "Hi there."

She smiled as she cuddled in tight. Even after six months of living together, she was still not completely used to sharing a home with Rick Castle. He drove her nuts and always had, but it was so nice to be able to just snuggle in close. She'd never imagined it, and definitely never imagined all of the circumstances that had led them to this point, but she wasn't about to even think about changing things.

She loved him.

And he made an _excellent_ bed warmer.

Rick's hand slid up her back, then back down again before making another trip, this time beneath the shirt she'd thrown on the night before. They'd been so busy that they hadn't had time for each other. Two cases and six weeks had left them with little time for much else. She arched into the touch.

"You know," he said, his cheek against her hair, even as his hands start to draw erotic patterns on her back. "I've _missed_ you."

Kate knew exactly what he meant. They'd been spoiled during her recovery from the shooting in Miami, four straight months of Hamptons sunshine and they hadn't been the same since. It wasn't a bad thing, per se, just more and more frustrating when real life meant they had to put their relationship on hold. It wasn't that they didn't love the police work, it wasn't that either of them were unhappy to be back in the city, back with their friends, but it was markedly different from the life they'd shared during her healing.

She leaned up to kiss him, slow, luxurious. "I missed you too," she said as she pulled away. One of her hands fell to his hip, the other slid into his hair. "A lot."

His kiss was hotter, much more about passion and Kate moaned into it. His hands were sure and warm, not bothering to be nonchalant about raising her t-shirt over her head. Her boyshorts followed and she was reaching for his boxers as he rolled them over when the shrill sound they both now hated permeated their bubble.

"Can you ignore it?" he asked, the same thing he always did when they were interrupted.

Kate reached over to pick up the offending object, checking the caller ID. "It's Esposito." She couldn't ignore it. "Beckett."

* * *

Kate Beckett abhorred the frigid cold of February in New York City. Unfortunately for her, murderers didn't seem to share her hatred of the negative temperatures. Which was why she was trudging down a trampled snowy path, freezing her pretty butt off.

"That's a really big crowd," Rick Castle murmured over her shoulder, his head tilting to the left.

Kate looked over at the crowd of cameras and blew out a sigh. "Tell me they're not for you."

"Of course not," he replied, absently sliding a hand down her arm. She was exhausted and Rick knew it. "You know the book's not due out until August."

She flashed him a quick grin. She did know that. At least vaguely. "Habit." She shot a smile at the officer who held the tape up for them to slip under and headed straight for the petite form of her best friend and one of NYPD's best coroners. "Lanie?"

Doctor Lanie Parish looked up from where she was studying the body of a young blond with a glare. "Girl, when you find this guy, I get to take a swing at him. He ruined a _really good_ morning."

"You and me both," Kate replied, then shook her head in dismissal when Lanie arched an eyebrow. Kate glanced around the crime scene, spotting Ryan and Esposito heading towards her, an anxious and nervous looking officer trotting along behind them. She arched an eyebrow in question as Ryan handed her a ball of latex. "Who's this?" she asked, offering Rick one of the two pairs of gloves that had been the ball.

"O-Officer John Sedaris," the uniform stuttered.

"First on?" Kate asked, slipping completely into her Detective Beckett role.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, studiously avoiding looking at the body.

"You touch her?"

"No ma'am. Just her purse. Well, I checked for a pulse."

Kate titled her head to the side as she snapped on her gloves. "Did you talk to the person who called it in?"

Officer Sedaris shook his head. "No ma'am." He looked around, eyes landing on someone standing by the flashbulbs. "Detective Juddoo prefers to do that himself."

"You ID her then?"

"She doesn't need ID," Rick spoke up.

"Again?" Kate asked spinning to him. "We're going to have a little talk about the sheer number of people you know showing up dead."

"I know a lot of people," Rick replied with a shrug. "But I didn't know her personally." He looked to Ryan and Esposito. "I don't party as much as I used to."

"How do you know her then?" Kate asked.

"She does the Early Morning Show with Tim Acheson. It's Molly Carroll." He wrinkled his brow in consideration. "I think Paula suggested I be a guest when the next book comes out. Or maybe it was the DVD…"

Kate arched an eyebrow. "Since when do you watch early morning television?"

He shot her sympathetic look, like he was explaining something to a small child. "Sweetheart, you leave _early_. I don't always go back to bed. It's cold without you."

"Driver's licence confirms it," Esposito spoke up, snickering at the usual banter. "Molly Carroll, twenty-seven."

All eyes turned to Lanie.

"I've got no outward signs of trauma," she said, as if feeling their gaze. "There's no puncture wounds, no blood, nothing. I won't know more 'til I get her back to the lab. From what I can tell, and the snow and the cold's thrown off the internal temperature, she's only been dead a handful of hours."

"Who the hell are you?"

Kate looked up, to the same man that had been pandering to the media only moments ago. "Detective Beckett."

His eyes narrowed. "Little out of your jurisdiction, isn't it?"

Oh. That was something Kate actually hadn't anticipated. She'd been busy when Esposito had called and really hadn't bothered to think about or check the address. She'd just written it down on the little pad Rick technically kept there for ideas, but had been used for crime scene addresses more than once, and dragged herself to the shower.

"Uh, that-that would be my fault," Officer Sedaris spoke up, his eyes darting about. "I called the Twelfth. Specifically requested Detective Beckett." He had the undivided attention of everyone then, including Lanie, who had stopped literally in her tracks.

"Jurisdiction a problem for you, Officer?" Detective Juddoo inquired, stuffing his hands in the front of his slacks. He wasn't a small man, but he wasn't particularly large either. Average in every sense of the word and Kate found herself hoping that no matter the outcome of this jurisdictional pissing contest, that he wasn't average when it came to his job.

"Well, no sir, it's just…" He turned to Kate. "I may have… There was something… It wasn't on her body, technically but…"

"Spit it out, Kid," Esposito advised.

"Well," Officer Sedaris began sheepishly. "This was tucked just under her collar. I didn't touch the body when I took it, I swear," he said to Kate, "But I made some calls and they said you were part of the Twelfth and… Well, here."

He shoved a piece of paper, prudently sealed in an evidence bag, at Kate. She took it, brow wrinkled in confusion and unsurprised when Rick immediately leaned over her shoulder to read it with her.

_**Miss Beckett,**  
**I'm sure this is familiar to you. Bobby Mann was certainly good at his job. So was Molly Carroll. It's too bad she had to be pulled into our little game.**  
**Catch me if you can!**

* * *

_

_Do not fret! I will explain the Bobby Mann/Molly Carroll connection. _

_I'm going to try and update regularly. Really I am. But between school, the CM fic I'm also working on and the rest of real life they're definitely not going to be consistent. Plus, this one was SHORT! I'm definitely hoping to get them back up 2000 words, so the next one is going to be a little while. However, there's going to be enough twists and turns in this that I think I'll put at least some of you on your heads for a while!_

_I hope you guys'll enjoy this ride as much as you've enjoyed the others. But I won't know unless you take the time to review! I'd really and truly appreciate it. _


	2. Chapter 2

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 2  
_

. . . . .

"This is _my_ case."

Rick rubbed a hand over his face as he sat in a chair in Montgomery's office. Detective Jason Juddoo – and yes, he'd already taken a moment to laugh at the double initial – was purple in the face, arguing ineffectually with the Captain. And Rick knew it wasn't going to help because Montgomery put his faith in Kate, every time. Biased or unbiased, she was damned good at what she did.

Detective Mark Sookhold sat on the other side of the room, watching his partner pace and absently glancing over at Kate. He'd been the one to talk to the guy who'd found the body on his way home from a night shift. Captain Larry Neece sat in a chair in front of Montgomery's desk, his steady gaze focused on the irate detective as he ranted. Kate stood against the wall, leaning against it, not saying a word. Whether she wanted the case or not – and Rick would bet she most definitely did – it was quite obvious their murderer had some sort of fixation on her. They all knew that worked in Kate's favour of becoming lead. Heck, she'd already sent Ryan and Esposito out to do the ground work.

Detective Juddoo spun to his captain. "This is _my_ case, Cap and I'll be damned if I let some _media darling_ steal it away because of a freaking _note_!"

Though no one reacted to 'media darling', Rick saw both Montgomery and Kate tense. The media was a sore spot with them all and though he knew he was largely to blame for it, it wasn't like Kate didn't have her own fair share of fans. She'd been lead on more than a few high profile cases. Nevertheless, the tone with which Juddoo spat it out definitely made it sound like an insult.

"I get that, Juddoo," Neece said, pushing himself up, sensing his detective was winding down at least enough to talk to him. "But the guy asked for Beckett. You'd want the case if the letters were addressed to you."

"So I'll keep her in the loop," Juddoo argued. "That's no reason just to pass the lead to her."

Rick's eyebrow arched. There was something off with the way he'd said the words, something venomous. Still, he kept his mouth shut.

"It's done, Juddoo," Sookhold replied from his chair. He was much more of a soft-spoken man, though it was difficult to guess that from his build. Where Juddoo was average, Sookhold was massive. And Rick would bet he had a past in wrestling or boxing. At least that was the story he'd made up for the man upon being introduced. "The guy asks for Beckett, we give him Beckett. The last thing we want to do is have more bodies show up because we didn't follow the game plan."

"They're more than willing to let you be a part of the team," Neece added. "You work out of here with the Twelfth. You know that area better than anyone, Juddoo."

"No way," Juddoo snapped back. "I'm not just handing over this case! I caught it, it's _mine_."

Rick watched Kate close her eyes and breathe out an inaudible sigh. He could only imagine how she was feeling. The last time a serial killer had targeted her, she'd almost been killed in an explosion. She'd lost her apartment, her life… She wanted this case because the guy was obviously after her, and she wasn't about to let someone get hurt because of a stubborn cop.

Then Juddoo turned on Kate.

"And _you_! Who the hell do you think you are, parading onto my crime scene?" He got right up in her face. Kate refused to back down, just stared coolly. "Just because you're dating the Mayor's little puppy doesn't mean you can just take my case." He snorted. "As if you need any more publicity with you being plastered all over the society pages. Hell, it's probably why the guy picked you! The detective with the dark past and an assassinated mother. It's a freaking _perfect_ storyline."

That sent the room scurrying. Sookhold jumped for Juddoo just as Kate pushed herself towards him. Rick was in front of her before she could take another step, not even sure himself how he'd managed to move that fast. He grasped her arms and squared his body.

"Kate, no."

Her nostrils were flaring. No one, _no one_, brought up her mother like that. Sure, Coonan's shooting had more than made the news, questioning the actions of the police, calling police brutality, but the reports had merely painted the picture of a woman who had saved a civilian's life. The brass had had no choice.

Juddoo, however, wasn't finished. "All she wants is the glory! She probably planted the damned letter!"

"Enough."

Montgomery's voice was ice and it stopped everyone dead. Juddoo stopped struggling against his partner's grip, and Kate stopped pushing against the solid wall of Rick's body. Neece stood beside him, the proverbial solid wall, both of them with wide stances and arms crossed over their chests.

"This is how it's going to work," Neece said, deadly calm. He liked Kate, the little he knew of her, and he knew she was good. He'd seen her case closure rate, he'd been there for the handful of awards she'd been graced with over the years. She and her team were a solid unit and though he envied Montgomery for his protogée, he was more than willing to put the case and the next potential victims first. "Juddoo, Beckett gets the lead." He held up his hand when Juddoo would have obviously argued. "Sookhold's right. The guy wants Beckett, we give him Beckett."

"You want in, that's fine," Montgomery added, his voice still cutting and sharp. "But you do it under Beckett's orders." Then he stepped around the desk. "I won't have to accusing my detective of crap. You want to work on this case, you cooperate. You don't cooperate, get the hell out and stay out of my precinct."

It was obvious to everyone that the meeting was over. Captain Neece stepped forward, setting a solid hand on Juddoo's shoulder and guiding him out. The detective was still mumbling and grumbling and Rick moved to orient himself between the detective and the door lest he lunge at Kate. Sookhold shook hands with Montgomery, then turned to Kate.

"Sorry 'bout him," he said, holding out his hand. Kate stepped around Rick and took it with a small, pained smile. "Whatever he chooses, I want in." His eyes went dark. "She was a good girl, Detective. She'd come around the station sometimes, fishing for a story. She wanted the big times."

Kate's smile softened to a more genuine expression of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

He blew out a breath. "Yeah. Look, I'm sorry he said those things, kay? Jase… he's got a chip on his shoulder. Been doing this job a long time and all."

Kate nodded. "I'll call you if something breaks. We'll need the back up." She didn't know that for sure, but Rick recognized an olive branch when it was offered.

Sookhold nodded, then departed.

"Beckett," Montgomery spoke up, his voice grim. "You get grief. You come to me."

Rick recognized the dark tone. There was obviously something else at play, something the Captain wasn't saying. Kate just nodded and nudged his shoulder to get him moving.

"Okay, he wants to play a game?" Rick asked as they stepped out of the Captain's office. If he was honest, the scene in Montgomery's office had spooked him a little. It wasn't that he wasn't sure Kate could take care of herself – okay, yes he was a little more overprotective since her shooting, regardless of the number of perps she'd taken down in the last six months of being back on the job – more that it baffled him how someone could want a case _so much_ so as to fight about it. They were the Blue Wall, the profession that stood up for each other no matter what. In-fighting just didn't make sense to him.

She shook her head. "It's more than that," she said quietly, absently tucking strands of hair behind her ear. "There's more than that."

"And why do they always have to leave notes?"

Now she shot him a wry look. He winked and she smiled, aware he was merely trying to lighten her load. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She blew out a breath as she shuffled papers, then stepped up to her blank murder board. He sat and watched as she filled it in, trying not to smile as she murmured to herself. When she was finished, they both sat on the edge of her desk.

"What's the link? Why me? And why bring up Bobby Mann? That case was _years_ ago."

She was chewing her lip, thinking carefully and he resisted the urge to smile. Sometimes, even when the world around her was so deadly serious, she was just _adorable_. And she'd kill him if he ever told her. He focused his gaze back on the board, his hand absently coming up to rub at her lower back. Overt displays of affection were against the rules except in absolutely dire circumstances, but little things were allowed. And she leaned into the touch.

"They were both talk show hosts," Rick offered after a moment.

"But Mann was famous, well-established. Why go after a woman just starting out?"

"Maybe it's the names," Rick replied with a shrug. "Carroll, Mann, Beckett… double last letter."

She pursed her lips and shot him a glance that was more disbelief than annoyance. "Seriously?"

"What? I'm good with language."

She blushed. He grinned.

"Maybe," Kate started again, leaning forward and bracing one hand on the desk. "She was working on something someone didn't want anyone to know about."

Rick tilted his head to the side. "Classic motive, but then why the letter game?"

"To throw us off?"

Rick wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Too simple."

"Rick," Kate said patiently, "How many times do I have to remind you, sometimes, it's just that simple."

Still, he could tell by her eyes that she didn't truly believe that. Not at all. He squeezed her elbow. She blew out a breath.

"You okay?" It was a stupid question. She was shaken by what had happened in Montgomery's office and he could tell.

"Yeah," she responded, "As good as can be." Then her phone chirped. "Text from Lanie."

"Well then," Rick said, standing and taking her hand. "Let's go see what the pretty doctor wants."

* * *

_I was going wait, I was, really, because I really don't want you guys to get used to quick updates only to disappoint you later and I'd really wanted to get the next chapter of my Criminal Minds done first, but then... excitement is sometimes too much to argue with. And last night's ep made me squeal and feel better about the coming season, avoidance of the big issues aside. _

_A big thanks to those who reviewed in the last 24 hours. It's always exciting to wake up to 10 reviews in the inbox!_


	3. Chapter 3

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 3  
_

. . . . .

"Molly Carroll calmed herself to death."

Kate raised an eyebrow as she came to a stop across their body from her best friend. Rick stepped up beside her, a reassuring presence. "She what?"

"I played a hunch," Lanie explained, reaching for the bright red folder to her left.

"A hunch?" Kate inquired almost in relief. When she'd caught the concern in Lanie's eyes as she'd stepped in, Kate had been sure she was in for a lecture on safety and security. After all, the last serial killer that had targeted her had blown up her apartment, and almost her in the process. She knew they were all still shaken by it. Rick still had nightmares about it bleeding into her shooting. She was glad she was escaping it this time around.

"The Bobby Mann connection got me thinking," the petite woman responded, handing the file over. "I ran some tests before I cut into her." She shrugged. "Not SOP, but I figured if I was right, you'd want to know ASAP."

Kate flipped open the folder. "And?"

"And," Lanie replied with a smug smile, propping a hand on her hip. "I was right."

Rick's breath wafted warmly over the skin of her neck as he read over her shoulder. "Esmolol?"

Lanie waited a beat to see if anything would click. When two sets of eyes just blinked at her, she said, "It's the active ingredient in Brevibloc, a prescription beta blocker."

Both brows across from her wrinkled in confusion.

"They're often used for performance anxiety," Lanie explained. "Beta blockers reduce nerve signals to the heart and blood vessels to control external signs of anxiety like trembling, rapid heartbeat and blushing in social situations."

Rick's eyebrow arched. "Like being on live TV."

The ME shot him a quick appreciative grin. "I checked her medical records, she has a prescription for Breviblock going back to her teen years, but the dose in her blood stream was three times the amount her doctor recommended."

"So…" Kate prompted.

"Patience," Rick encouraged, sending a wink in Lanie's direction. He was trying for normalcy. He was still shaken by the altercation between Juddoo and Kate and he was clinging to his humour and wit like a lifeline. The last thing they needed was the super-serious nature that came on the heels of such an altercation from within the blue wall. "You're taking away all of her fun."

Lanie gave him an appreciative smile.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Lanie?"

The ME blew out an irritated breath. "With the amount of esmolol she had in her system, it would have lowered her blood pressure, and more importantly, her heart rate until she died, but it would have taken a while. She would have been woozy, groggy and then probably would have passed out. Death would have come… later."

"You can't give us an exact time frame?" Kat inquired.

"No," Lanie allowed.

"I sense a but," Rick said, narrowing her eyes playfully. _Keep upbeat_, he reminded himself, the shred of normalcy in their abnormal day.

With a carefully gloved hand, Lanie pried open one of Molly Carroll's eyelids. "Petechial haemorrhaging."

"But no bruising," Kate picked up.

"Suffocated," Lanie agreed. "I have no fibres, nothing that can tell us what she was suffocated with, and no DNA to say the guy held a hand to her mouth. So either your guy was good or her breathing was so low, nothing got into her passages."

The detective turned to Rick. "So, when the beta blockers didn't do their job fast enough…"

"… He did the next best thing to ensure she died and suffocated her," he finished with a smile.

Kate's hand flew to her phone when it chimed. "Ryan," she said, tapping open the text message. "Tim Acheson and Molly Carroll's best friend are waiting for us back at the precinct." She looked up at her best friend. "Thanks Lanie."

Rick paused in following Kate out, turning back to the ME. "She'll be safe," he said quietly. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Heather Knight was a raven-haired woman with freckles and dark eyes. They were red-rimmed and makeup free as she sat in one of the rooms they reserved for family notifications, clinging to the arm of a striking brow-haired man. Tim Acheson seemed just as broken as Heather did, even if he was dry-eyed.

"Molly loved life," Heather said with a sniffle, clutching Tim's hand. "She was the type who danced in the rain just because she could." She laughed through her obvious tears. "She pulled me out of bed once at three am just because it was snowing out. She ran around in her pajamas for almost twenty minutes and ended up with a nasty cold, but it was worth it to her."

"Molly's mother was diagnosed with cancer when she was six," Tim added in explanation. "She finally passed away when Molly was fifteen. She was the one who taught Molly to live every day to its fullest, because you never know when it's going to be your last."

"_Carpe diem_," Rick murmured with a gentle smile.

Heather echoed it with a shaky, watery one of her own as she pulled a Kleenex from the nearby box. "She always used to say that."

"Did she seem… different to you in the last couple of days?" Kate asked. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. She hated these notifications and pressed her knee to Rick's. She hadn't needed this kind of reassurance before him, but sometimes it was nice to have it.

Tim shook his head. "Molly was sweet. And she was good. When Kathleen Olsen left, she was my first choice."

"You got her the job?" Kate inquired.

"Yeah," Tim replied. "Molly and I…" he sucked in a deep breath, the pain obvious. "We dated in high school. She was my first love but… I graduated and Molly still had a year left, so we ended it. We figured it would be easier, that we'd both be able to pursue our own lives. When Kathleen left and I found out that Molly was still in New York, trying to get screen time…" He shrugged. "I made a few calls and Molly was my co-anchor."

"Did she have enemies?" Kate asked next.

It was Heather who shook her head this time. "You couldn't hate Molly."

"Not even in a competitive field like ours," Tim added. "Everyone in the studio loved her."

"And Molly wasn't the type to let things fester. If there was a problem, she'd take you out for coffee to talk about it," Heather agreed.

Kate tried not to show her exasperation. They were getting nowhere. So she switched tactics. "Molly had a prescription for Brevibloc."

"For what?" Heather sniffled.

"Beta blockers," Rick offered, then elaborated when no one seemed to clue in. "Public figures take them for stage fright."

"Molly? Stage fright?" Heather asked, looking at Tim.

He sighed heavily, running his free hand through his hair and over his face. He was fighting the emotion and both Rick and Kate could tell. "Always," he finally answered. "It was her best kept secret. She used to hyperventilate when we were in high school and she had to do a presentation or something. I finally got her to talk to my dad, he's a GP. He was the one who prescribed the beta blockers for Molly." He shook his head. "But, my dad _warned_ her about what would happen if she overdosed, told her to never, _ever_ take more than once and she stuck to that like glue."

"What about a boyfriend?" Kate probed. "Someone special?"

"She'd just started seeing this guy," Heather said with a far off look over Rick's shoulder and an affectionate smile. Then she glanced down at the Kleenex she'd been shredding. "She wouldn't tell me his name, just that he was charming and sweet. She was pretty sure she was in love."

"He'd send her flowers and texts," Tim spoke up. His smile was also affectionate. "She really, _really_ liked him. You could tell."

"She said she met him in a coffee shop," Heather chuckled. "He threw out his coffee just to get in line behind her and talk to her. Molly was beautiful but… intimidating and private. She was on TV, with Tim, and she got a lot of press out of it. She started guarding things more closely, didn't tell anyone anything." She looked at Tim. "Then, there was that stalker."

"Stalker?" Rick latched on immediately, leaning forward.

"About… Two months ago, I think? She mentioned she felt like someone was watching her. Just little things, you know? A shadow here and there, the odd hang up…" Tim shrugged again. "It went away after a while and we all kind of chalked it up to an overzealous paparazzi, but… Molly was spooked."

Kate scribbled fiercely. "Did she ever tell you the name of the guy she was seeing?"

Heather shook her head. "No."

Kate resisted the urge to sigh. A potential stalker and a no-name boyfriend weren't much to go on. They were flimsy leads at best, fluttering in the wind, but at least, she guessed, they were something. So, biting her cheek, she reached across the table to squeeze Heather and Tim's still-joined hands. "We _will_ find him."

And that was a promise she had yet to break.

* * *

_So this is short and I'm angry because I was hoping to do more with it, but this is too good of a place to end it and it does what I needed to do. It was a procedural chapter and totally necessary. I'm hoping the next one will have fluff of support or drama or something that's not procedeural in nature. Sound like a deal?_

_And I'm hoping that the next one will be up soon too. But I'm a slave to my muse and right now my muse is throwing NCIS LA at me like crazy. Which is irritating when I have two or three Castle's on the go. _

_Cross your fingers!_


	4. Chapter 4

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 4  
_

. . . . .

Rick held Kate's hand as they headed into the precinct the next morning, stopping her in her tracks, his eyes directed towards her desk. With a wrinkled brow, Kate followed his gaze to see a redhead perched on the corner of her desk. She was flashing a smile at some of the officers, a pad in hand and Kate arched an eyebrow.

"Know her?"

"Yeah." He winced when she hit him. "Not like that. I've never _met _her."

"But you know her."

He grinned widely, almost childishly, squeezing her hand and kissing her head before anyone caught on they were there. "No need to be jealous, Detective. I've seen her picture in the paper. Right beside her byline."

"The paper. A reporter." A chill raced down her spine. She hated reporters on a good day.

"A reporter," Rick confirmed, his hand letting go of hers to press against her lower back. It wasn't enough to urge her to move, but enough to provide comfort Kate needed but would never admit to. All of this, the case, the press hoopla that came with it, the infighting, was too much, too fast and too close together. Rick knew her nerves were frayed and the last thing she wanted to or needed to deal with were questions from the press.

"Detective! Mr. Castle!"

They both winced this time at the cheery greeting. Kate stepped forward, heading for her desk while Rick headed off in a different direction. She'd kill him later for his abandonment. "Can I help you, Miss…?"

"Hill. Rebecca Hill. It's a _pleasure_ to meet you."

Kate folded her arms across her chest as the woman held out a hand. "You're sitting on my desk."

"Oh! I'm sorry. Right." She shuffled, dropping into Rick's chair and propping her pad on her knee. "What can you tell me about the man who killed Molly Carroll?"

"Nothing," Kate replied, dropping into her chair and moving pages around. She needed to do some research on beta blockers, see who had access to Molly's pills…

"Come on, Detective," Rebecca said with a smile. "I'm young and new at the game but I know how it works. I used to do Society."

If that was supposed to endear the reporter to Kate, she'd failed miserably. If anything, it irritated her more. So Kate kept her mouth shut, pulling a pad of Rick's Post-It's out of her drawer.

Rebecca leaned her elbow on Kate's desk. "Look, Molly was one of our own, okay? She was one of us and she deserves to have her story told."

"She does," Kate agreed, finally looking over. "But not by jumping to conclusions and trying to harass the officers involved in her case. I won't be feeding you information, Miss Hill." She turned back to her work, but Rebecca didn't move. Too much practice ignoring Rick worked in Kate's favour though and Rebecca faded into the background hustle and bustle of the precinct.

At least for a few minutes.

"You're just as bad as the others, you know."

Kate looked up, curious and irritated. "What others?"

"Cops. If it was another cop you'd be rallying around each other, protecting each other, insulating each other, yet when it comes to some other profession, you don't give us the same courtesy."

Kate leaned towards Rebecca, her smile sweet, but feral. "Miss Hill, if it was another cop, I wouldn't be talking to a reporter. I'm affording Molly Carroll the same respect I give all of my other victims. So you're not going to get your sound bite, your quote, or anything like that when it comes to this case. You're just going to have to find out about it through the statements of the NYPD, like everyone else."

She turned back to her work, only a little thrilled when Rebecca said nothing. Yet, the reporter didn't move. Finally, Kate looked up with a raised eyebrow, only to find the woman looking at her with serious consideration and maybe a hint of admiration that hadn't been there before.

"You're not what I expected."

"Thanks," Kate said slowly, unsure if the woman meant to be complementary or not. "I think."

Rebecca leaned back in her seat. "I always thought you were cold. Aloof. But you're not."

Kate stayed silent, tamping down the irritation at the backhanded insult.

"Detective Juddoo sent me your way," she said finally. "I usually work over there. Bad crime area, better stories, you know? But when I asked him about Molly… He said you'd be more than willing to talk to me."

The detective actually let out a loud bark of laughter. "Miss Hill, no offense, but I _hate_ reporters."

Rebecca looked up at the doorway to the break room and Kate followed her gaze. Rick was watching them out of the corner of his eye – Kate could tell because his gaze kept darting towards them – but he, Ryan and Esposito seemed deep in conversation. When Kate looked back to the journalist, she was smiling.

"Yeah," she said. "I can see that." She pushed herself up. "Detective, it's been a pleasure. Really."

And Kate believed her. Then Rebecca stopped and turned back. "Molly was really my friend. We went to school together and she was genuinely a good person. So if you do end up talking to the press, I'd appreciate it if you came to me first

Kate's smile was genuine. "I'll seriously consider it."

Rick sidled up, coffee in hand, as Kate watched Rebecca leave. "You just cost me fifteen bucks, Detective."

"Oh?"

"I had my money on you chewing her up and spitting her back out again. It actually looks like you left on friendly terms," he answered, settling into the seat Rebecca had just vacated.

Kate rested her chin on her hand as she looked over at him. "Juddoo sent her over."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I know," she responded, shuffling papers around her to reorient herself with the case. Rick rarely let her stay too late at the precinct, but it meant the first thing she often had to do in the morning was come in and refresh her memory. It was both a blessing and a curse.

"I don't get it," he admitted. "Was he hoping you'd freak out? Expecting you to tell her everything?"

Kate snorted, looking for Lanie's autopsy report. "I've had my fifteen minutes of fame, thanks, and it was fifteen minutes too many."

"You were beautiful for every minute," he said, picking up her hand and dropping a kiss to the back. It was one of the quick little displays he allowed himself at the precinct.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face and a blush in her cheeks. "Sweet talker." Then she drew in a breath. "Okay, so we know Molly Carroll OD'd on beta blockers…"

* * *

Ten hours later, a full day at the precinct with no new leads, Rick put his foot down and tugged Kate out of her chair. She protested, vehemently, but Rick was too insistent. He'd allowed Kate to work without interruption until the end of her shift. He'd been good, stealing Ryan's computer while the other man was out checking for witnesses and interviewing anyone at the station who could know the name of their mysterious boyfriend. However, when shift's end had rolled around, he'd been adamant that she take a break. Though they'd been cheery heading into the precinct, it was obvious that the case was wearing on her already, that, as irrational as it was, Kate blamed herself for Molly's death. Some serial killer had targeted Molly because of Kate and Rick knew his detective too well not to understand that she felt at least partially responsible.

So, he'd let her stew in silence until they stepped in the door, then announced it was his night to cook and left her to the couch. She'd been carrying on a conversation about the newest exploits of Rook and Nikki until about ten minutes ago, when Rick could tell she was starting to fade. When he'd glanced over, he could see her playing with the edge of a piece of paper. A piece of paper he knew she'd all but smuggled out of the precinct. A photocopy of the killer's note.

Kate was sure there was something in those few concise words that would help them, something that would clue them into something other than the method of death. For the life of them, and no matter how long she'd spent staring at the note that afternoon, they couldn't come up with anything. It wasn't surprising, but Rick knew it was disheartening. It was obvious the man wasn't going to stop, that this probably wasn't the first one, and it was a terrifying notion. Kate didn't often get targeted by serial killers, and both of them were glad for it. But this…

And he couldn't help feeling a bit of guilt himself. They'd been together over a year now, just over eighteen months actually, and he knew that despite their best efforts, their relationship hadn't been totally media free. They'd both been plastered on tabloids once or twice, especially from the few parties they'd attended in the Hamptons after Kate's shooting. Heck, he'd been collecting the clippings half in amusement. He couldn't help but think that Kate wouldn't be so high profile if they weren't together.

"What about a jail break?"

Kate glanced over the back of their couch to where Rick was cooking in confusion and annoyance. "Why would Nikki need to break Rook out of jail?"

He grinned as he dished up dinner. She may feel partially responsible for Molly's death, but that didn't mean he couldn't distract her.

"Who said it would be Nikki breaking Rook out?" Rick questioned as he brought two plates to the couch. They were usually anal about eating at the table, just to have that time together, but he wanted Kate as relaxed as possible. She looked it, except for the tension he could see in every line of her body as she reclined against the arm of the couch.

Kate shot him a look. "Nikki's too straight to get herself caught," she replied, setting the photocopy aside to take the plate he held out to her. "Plus, if she's going to do something that would hypothetically get her arrested, she wouldn't get caught."

"You have a lot of faith in Nikki's abilities," he murmured, leaning over to kiss her and skilfully balancing his own plate of food. She lifted her legs and he slid into the spot, waiting until her feet dropped back into his lap to settle his food on her shins. "What makes you so sure she wouldn't get caught?"

"Please, Rick," she responded, her eyes darting to the note even as she speared some of the chicken pasta he'd thrown together. "With the connections she has? Lauren alone would help simply because they're best friends." She shot him a look. "And I _guarantee_ she knows all the good ways to hide the evidence."

He frowned. "Are we talking about Nikki Heat or Kate Beckett?"

Kate huffed out a breath. "I don't know," she admitted, closing her eyes.

His hand started moving on her leg, rubbing up and down out of comfort. She focused on her food and neither of them spoke for a few moments.

"There's _something_ in that letter, Rick. I know it."

"Then you also know we'll find it," he replied, squeezing her knee gently. "Kate, you've been on this case less than twenty-four hours."

"And already I've had a fight with another officer, been called a media whore and hit more dead ends than I have leads," she shot back.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, leaning forward to place his dish on the coffee table, then doing the same with hers. He tugged on her leg until she shifted into his lap with a heavy sigh, resting her head against his shoulder. "First of all, we both know how much you hate the media," he said, his hand stroking up and down her back. "Second…"

"I know," Kate interrupted. "Logically, I know, but since I've started hanging out with you, logic just doesn't seem to cut it anymore."

"Hanging out with me," he asked with a raised eyebrow. "We're doing much more than 'hanging out', Sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes despite the heat that zipped through her body. "You're missing my point."

"I'm not," he promised, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I just…" Now, it was his turn to sigh.

He didn't have to explain it further than that. This was an odd one for both of them, partially because there was so much more pressure on them with the addition of an extra precinct, but also because this was the most public their lives had been since Kate had been shot. The press wanted quotes, wanted a line, wanted information from them about Molly Carroll's death that Kate couldn't release. And wouldn't release. She had no time for the press and the paparazzi and she wasn't about to start making time for them because of a woman's death.

She heard Rick groan when her phone sounded from her purse. She sighed, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek gently. "You know I have to get it."

He let her go, and Kate frowned as she saw Lanie's name on the caller ID. "Lanie?"

"Girl, turn on your TV."

When Lanie called, Kate generally did as she was told. Lanie had yet to steer her wrong and more than that, and though she'd never admit it, Kate was a little bit afraid of the ME. "Why?"

"News," was Lanie's only response.

Kate barely withheld a growl. It turned into a loud groan when she flipped on the TV and caught the end of an interview with none other than Detective Jason Juddoo.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Rick murmured as Kate settled in beside him, the phone still pressed to her ear.

"He's been talking about how you stole his case, about how the darling of the NYPD is really just –"

"Lanie," Kate interrupted, "I get it."

The phone dropped away from her ear as Kate turned her full attention to the TV. Part of Kate wanted to laugh. With all of his accusations on how much time Kate spent in the media, it seemed like a hypocritical move on his part.

"Accidental my ass," Kate murmured. "No accidental death leaves a note quoting an old NYPD case. And if Molly had been taking beta blockers for as long as Tim Acheson said, there's no way it can be accidental. People who take medication that long don't screw up."

Rick chuckled slightly, pulling her closer. It wasn't the first time Kate had gotten defensive of her cases and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. She was a stickler for truth, and what Juddoo was saying was definitely not the truth. He bit his lip against the smile that threatened to break through when she started mumbling to herself, correcting the things Juddoo was saying.

Once the clip on the case was done, Rick changed the channel without a word. The sitcom was a distraction, and meant as such, but Rick could still feel the stiffness of her body that told him she wasn't likely to relax any time soon. He slid his hand into her hair, scratching her scalp and slowly moving her head to rest on his shoulder. She relaxed under the touch, like he knew she would.

"Sweetheart, we should move this to the bed," he whispered when she eventually relaxed to all but limp against him.

She just mumbled and curled further into his body. Even knowing they were going to ache in the morning, he didn't want to move her. He liked feeling her against him and he didn't want to risk waking her up enough for her brain to re-engage. The case was away for the night and because he knew her, and knew that sleep was a precious commodity on cases like this, he wanted to make sure she got at least some sleep.

Rick didn't realize he too had drifted off until the shrill ringing of Kate's phone at seven. She grumbled, moaned as her body stretched, then answered.

"Beckett."

"Detective Sookhold," came the crisp voice. Then there was a pause. "I think I've got something you're going to want to see."

* * *

_I promise to do my best to make sure the next update doesn't take another month! I looked and was honestly and utterly surprised by how long it's been since I updated. _

_I do hope you enjoyed this one and to those of you who kept poking at me, I actually appreciate it. With the way things are going, I needed to update to hear from all of you, so thank you for pushing me to do so!_

_Let me know if you loved it, hated it, if it made no sense... you know, the usual. Thanks in advance!_


	5. Chapter 5

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 5  
_

. . . . .

"This is too fast," Rick murmured as he slipped under the crime scene tape beside Kate. "Way too fast."

"Most serial killers don't exactly schedule their kills, Rick," Kate replied, her own voice just as low and quiet. The hotel suite they stepped into was busy with people, crime scene techs and in the middle of it all, Lanie crouched over the body of a woman in an elegant evening gown.

Detective Sookhold spotted Kate first and immediately made his way over.

"Thanks for calling."

Sookhold sighed. "Don't thank me yet. Jay's still going to flip when he realizes I called you." He paused, looking at Kate intently. "I looked into you. Your case history. You've got an impressive close-rate."

It was both a backhanded complement and a recognition of respect Kate could understand. Sookhold was acknowledging that she was good, and the fact that he called her behind his partner's back showed that he respected her abilities.

"I hope it'll be a pleasure working with you."

And there was the subtle threat. Kate flashed him a grin that had always charmed Rick's friends and colleagues. "I'm sure it will."

Sookhold paused a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle and led the way. "Linda Jax," he said, waving to the body. "Bridesmaid in the Richie-Harrison wedding downstairs, set for this morning at ten. Hair and makeup at seven. Maid of honour, Jacqueline Marivale, came up to look for Ms. Jax when she didn't show for seven. Found this instead."

Kate exchanged a look with Rick. It was too close, too similar not to recognize it. Her mind flashed back to Kyra Blaine. "You're kidding me."

"I wish he was," Lanie piped up. She pointed to bruises around Linda Jax's throat. "Strangled from behind. Violently. Not missing an earring though."

Rick and Kate mirrored the ME's wry smile.

"You know this one too?" Sookhold asked.

"Something like that," Kate said on a sigh, crouching down across from Lanie. "Note?"

"Tucked into her cleavage," Lanie responded, passing over the sealed evidence bag. "She had a lot of it."

"Real?" Rick asked.

Kate rolled her eyes, but the smile slipped out. She appreciated the levity.

"No," Lanie replied, as if it was a normal question to ask. She continued lifting edges of fabric, checking for other injuries. "Definitely augmented."

"What bearing does that have on the case?" Sookhold asked. He couldn't understand these people. He'd looked up Detective Beckett, he knew she was phenomenal at her job, but this play-by-play was odd to someone so used to a strict partner.

"It doesn't," Rick replied with a shrug. "Curiosity."

"Detective," Kate stepped in with a sigh, before Sookhold could ask another question. "This is one of those things you just let go." But she saw it for what it was. And she appreciated it. Enough that she _really_ wanted to turn and kiss him senseless.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Kate didn't look at anyone but the irate detective approaching them. His hands were fisted at his sides as he stomped towards them. "It's my case."

"You don't know that."

"The letter says it's related. And it's addressed to me." She kept her voice calm, steady, and largely without the flash of temper that had bled into her. She wanted to snap at him, wanted to tell him to grow up, but she reigned herself in. It wouldn't do them any good to have a pissing contest at a crime scene.

"You've had your damned five minutes of fame," Juddoo all but growled. "Now get off my scene."

"We came in the back way," Rick spoke up before Kate could. He was wandering aimlessly about the room, but quite unashamedly eavesdropping. "Were there reporters out front?" He paused, his back still to them as he peeked into the closet. "And it's a rather under-the-table crime scene, being in a hotel suite and all. So who called them?"

Juddoo was bright red at the underhanded accusation. "You're going to regret this. I'll bury you, you media bitch."

There was a massive release of tension when the door slammed behind them. Rick was at Kate's side in an instant, but he backed off at the irritated glare she sent him.

"You're not helping," she snapped.

"How is he going to bury you by exposing you?" Rick shrugged unrepentantly when she just continued to glare at him. "I don't like him."

"You deal with people you don't like whenever you do your releases and whenever you have to do press events. This is one of those times you have to suck it up." She stepped closer, jamming a finger into his chest. "Don't. Poke. The. Bear."

He knew when to step back. "My apologies, Detective."

Kate sighed inaudibly at his use of her formal title. "Jesus," she breathed, knowing he was close enough to hear it.

"I know," he promised, allowing his arm to drift quickly down her arm. "And I am sorry. I couldn't help myself."

She knew that. Logically, she knew that. Rick was the type of person who only peripherally cared about what people outside his inner circle thought of him. He made a show of caring more, but when it came down to it, what the tabloids said, what the people on the street said… that meant nothing. When it came to his friends, when it came to those he cared about… That was a different story entirely. And she knew she was a big part of that inner circle.

"Buy me a coffee and you're forgiven." Then she turned to Lanie and Sookhold. "Lain, make sure she gets back to your morgue, okay? Boys!"

Ryan and Esposito poked their heads out from around the corner of the bedroom. "Canvass the guests and the hotel. Maybe she screamed."

"She certainly put up a fight," Lanie spoke up, lifting a forearm. "I'll call you."

Kate nodded, then turned to Sookhold. "Coffee, Detective?" She wanted to talk to the man, both about Juddoo and about the case. He wasn't an idiot, Kate was realizing quickly, and he was smart and competent. The very least she could do for keeping her in the loop was share the information with him. "Castle's buying."

She could see the split-second battle before he answered. "I'm a cop. I can't say no to free coffee."

* * *

They chose a diner. Well, Rick chose a diner, and insisted on ordering food. Kate rolled her eyes affectionately. "I can feed myself."

"You can. You don't. Or won't. I'm never quite sure which." He accompanied his words with a mock confused face.

God, she loved him.

She switched mindsets quickly, sobering as she cupped her hands around her mug and met Sookhold's eyes. "We owe you an explanation."

"Should I call Jay?"

Technically, Kate knew the answer was yes, and she understood that by excluding him, she was putting Sookhold in the middle. But after the unwarranted chewing-out she'd just received, she was reluctant to bring the other detective in on it. She wasn't sure he'd listen. "Probably."

Sookhold nodded once. It was an acknowledgment of what she didn't want, and the apology in her eyes. He was accepting playing middle man. "Shoot."

"You keep telling her that and she might," Rick quipped.

Kate slapped his arm.

He grinned, and let one of his hands drop to her thigh. She let him leave it there.

"The cases have a connection beyond the notes," Kate began. "They're our old cases."

"Old cases?" Sookhold inquired.

"Molly Carroll was calmed to death with beta blockers. A nearly undetectable poison. We had a case a couple of years ago, Bobby Mann."

"I remember the case," Sookhold agreed with a solemn nod. "Weird case. Lots of publicity."

Kate sighed. "I know. He died due to a contra-indicator of the depression medication he was taking. When mixed with anything fermented, the drug caused a fatal heart attack."

"Which is how your ME knew to check the odd tests first," Sookhold provided.

Kate nodded, dropping her hand over Rick's as it started to move. "Exactly." Rick wove her fingers in his.

"And this murder?"

"Sophie Ronson. Bridesmaid. Killed in her hotel room. Strangled." Kate explained quickly.

Sookhold nodded quietly for a minute. "He's copying your cases."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as the food was dropped off at the table.

Sookhold met Kate's gaze. "Why?"

They all knew there were too many answers to that question.

* * *

"Neighbours heard nothing, guests know nothing, wedding guests told us nothing," Esposito said, dropping to his chair in frustration.

It was late afternoon, and Kate and Sookhold had been puzzling over the murder board. Rick had gone home, telling her he had work of his own to do, but Kate knew better. They'd been living together for six months, for Pete's sake and she'd known him much longer than that. He wasn't working. He was preparing. Which meant he'd be returning with the full intention of dragging her out.

He'd done it before since she'd moved in. If the case got too rough, he'd disappear for a few hours in the afternoon then return to drag her home. There, he had a system. A bath, sometimes for two, dinner and just general relaxation. If she couldn't get the case out of her head, he sat there while she talked it out. Sometimes they hit the jackpot. When they didn't, they had a standing agreement that she try and forget about it for a night.

"That doesn't make sense," Sookhold said. "How could no one see or hear anything?"

"Someone did," Ryan spoke up, coming to stand beside Kate. "The concierge. She says she was approached by a guy, mid-thirties, she thinks, about an hour before Linda Jax came through the lobby. The guy flirted with her, joked with her, but she was working. She said she was creeped out by the guy. She knew he was hitting on her and he made it obvious he wanted more, but she turned him down."

"Catalyst?" Kate inquired absently.

"Doubt it," Sookhold responded. "We both know he's been tracking these girls."

"Well, I don't know," Esposito spoke up. "According to the bride, Linda's an old friend, from high school. But lives in Oklahoma."

"So she was just here for the wedding. How long?" Kate asked.

"A week. Just under. Jacqueline Marivale said she was staying with her until they all moved into the hotel the night before the wedding," Ryan answered. "Yesterday."

"Bring the concierge in. I want her talking to a sketch artist."

Ryan waved to a short, blond woman by the elevator. "We're just waiting for the artist."

Kate and Sookhold exchanged a look, before they both headed towards the blond. She looked up as Kate held out a hand. "I'm Detective Beckett. And this is Detective Sookhold."

"Daphne Morrow. You want to talk about the dead girl."

"Actually," Sookhold said, and Kate let him take the lead. "We want to talk about the guy who approached you."

Daphne shuddered. "He was nice at first. Sweet even. But then… he wasn't."

"What do you mean?" Sookhold asked gently, taking a seat beside her.

"It was nothing obvious," Daphne said, turning all of her attention to the male detective. "I mean… he didn't make a scene or anything but… I could tell. I work the concierge desk, I see a lot of people every day. I can read people."

Sookhold nodded along with her story.

"It was in his eyes," Daphne continued. "I mean, it was creepy enough when he came up and knew my name, but then, when I told him I was working and I had plans after my shift… his eyes went cold. Like… really cold."

Both detectives could picture that look. They worked in homicide. They saw those eyes.

"But he walked away." Daphne's eyes darted between them. "I guess Lawrence, he works the front desk with Mindy most days, saw I was uncomfortable and he came over. He's a personal trainer, but he supplements with the front desk job, you know?"

"What happened when Lawrence came over?" Sookhold asked, guiding Daphne back on topic.

"The guy walked away. I mean, Lawrence just asked if there was something wrong, but I guess it was enough."

Kate held up a picture of Linda Jax. "When did you see this woman?"

"About an hour later, I guess. It was almost the end of my shift. He'd been kind of wandering around the lobby, in and out of the bar. And _that_ creeped me out. I mean, was he waiting for me or what? Then she came through the lobby and his attention completely shifted. She was dressed for the wedding too, I just assumed she was on her way down. He talked to her, flirted with her I guess, then they went upstairs."

"You didn't warn her?" Kate asked.

"I was about to. But I got caught up with a group trying to find their way to Broadway, well, off-Broadway, for a play and they kept asking questions, like if they'd made a good choice, how many different ways could they get there, where was the closest subway stop… My attention was on them." She shrugged. "When I looked up again, they were gone."

"The sketch artist is here," Ryan interrupted. "Miss Morrow, if you'll come with me?"

Sookhold moved to stand beside Kate, watching Ryan lead Daphne to one of the conference rooms. Kate tapped her folder against her free hand.

"Daphne was the target."

Kate didn't need to see Sookhold nod to know he agreed. She held up the picture of the victim so they could see the very alive Daphne and the very dead Linda.

"He wanted Daphne. He trailed Daphne."

"But he killed Linda like Sophie Ronson. Dress and all. He got lucky there but… if he wanted to copy the Ronson case, then where's everything he would need? Sophie Ronson was strangled from behind with bare hands. If he wanted to kill Daphne, he'd need to get her upstairs, kill her and put her in a bridesmaid dress. We wouldn't have made the Ronson connection otherwise." She blew out a breath as she let her hand fall to her side. "So where's the dress? Where's he registered? He would have already had the room."

"So we subpoena the hotel. Registrations in the last couple of days, people who booked one night…"

She sighed and looked over to him. "That's going to be a long list."

"We've got four-"

"Five," she corrected absently. Rick would definitely want in on a story like this.

"Five," he agreed, "people. How hard can it be?"

* * *

_I know I said I'd focus on Prove It, but I'm having segue issues. This was half written (less, but we'll pretend) and I've been writing all sorts of other scenes for this like crazy. I should be reading (about prostitution, interestingly enough) but keal sent me a message asking me to update one or the other and I know there's a bunch of you who have been looking forward to this, so here it is! _

_I do hope at the very least it was worth the wait. _

_PS: if there are typos, they're mine. I have eyes, but not perfect ones, so I miss some. Such is the story of life!_


	6. Chapter 6

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 6  
_

. . . . .

There were more single males travelling alone and had rented a hotel room for a one night stay than they wanted. They murder had already gained plenty of publicity – Lanie had already given her a blistering earful about battling through a crowd of reporters to pick up a forgotten body bag in her van – and the hotel had been more than willing to hand over their guest list. Kate, Sookhold, Ryan and Esposito had been psyching themselves up for a long night of verifying identities when Rick called.

Kate had shaken her head affectionately when she saw his name on the caller ID and reluctantly called it a night. She _really_ didn't want to, but she also knew that taking a break wasn't a bad thing. Plus, if they picked it up in the morning, they could verify identities by phone instead of by other electronic forms of ID. As guilty as she felt, as much as she felt like she was abandoning her victims and their families, she appreciated what Rick was trying to do. She knew she got wrapped up in her cases. Rick made sure she stepped back and took the time to gain perspective.

She smiled as she stepped into the loft. Rick was behind the kitchen counter, something sizzling away on the stove. She determined it was probably what was creating the delicious smell wafting into her nose. He grinned when he saw her, turning the stove off while she stripped her coat off and kicked her shoes aside. He had two glasses of wine in his hands as he made his way towards her.

"I thought I was going to have to come kidnap you," he murmured against her mouth. With an ease borne of practice, one of the wine glasses passed from his hand to hers while they kissed.

"I missed you this afternoon," she whispered.

Rick grinned. Six months ago she'd never have confessed to such a thing so easily. Their summer of adventures in miscommunication had turned moments like this into regular occurrences. Still, he teased her.

"Esposito refuse to make you coffee again?"

She frowned, but there was an unmistakeable twinkle in her eye. "Karpowski, actually. Esposito spent the afternoon with the concierge and desk clerks."

"Should Lanie be jealous?" Rick inquired, wrapping his arm around her to keep her close.

"Mindy Lawson's twenty six and has been married seven years to the 'love of her life'," Kate began. "Lawrence Maseko had his eyes fixed on Daphne Morrow the whole afternoon and from the way she eagerly accepted a ride home tonight, I have a feeling Esposito's not even on her radar." She offered him a shrug. "Plus, Lanie came up twenty minutes before the hotel registry came through. They were deciding whether or not to christen the break room couch when Ryan went to find Esposito."

He pouted. "You never jump me in the precinct."

"I have more self-respect." Her brow wrinkled. "That came out wrong."

"I wouldn't mind if you jumped me in the precinct."

She rolled her eyes, but leaned up to press a chaste kiss against his mouth. "You wouldn't mind if I jumped you in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve." She disentangled herself and headed for the kitchen.

Rick hesitated a moment, but only because he paused to ponder her words. "Actually," he said, as he trailed her. "I would mind."

Kate arched an eyebrow as she inspected the pan on the stove. Chicken, she determined.

"Beyond the fact that it would be freezing," he explained, setting his wineglass on the counter and wrapping his arms around her. "I don't really like to share. I like that I'm the only one that knows about the patch of freckles just to the left of your spine." He trailed his hand around to that exact spot, running his thumb over it. "I like knowing that you're right side is ticklish." She giggled as he followed words with action. "I like that I'm the only one who knows about this." He slipped his hand under her shirt to run along the bare skin on her hipbone. "Or about the birthmark under your breast."

_God,_ Kate thought as she felt the tension drain momentarily from her bones. _I love this man_. She was half seduced already and definitely breathless.

"And," he whispered, nipping her earlobe. "There's always this."

"Oh," she gasped as he sunk his teeth gently into her pulse point. "Huh."

He grinned. He loved making her speechless.

She broke away, forcing herself to do so, and heading for the oven she'd just noticed he'd left on. She took a sniff as she opened the door, eyes widening in delight at the smell that greeted her. "Did you make rosemary potatoes?"

"I did," he affirmed, reaching around her to turn off the stove.

She looked at him. He'd been light-hearted, goofy with her since she'd walked in the door ten minutes ago. He'd made rosemary potatoes, her comfort food, knowing exactly what she needed. And he'd called her away from the precinct before she buried herself. She wrapped an arm around his waist, setting her glass on the counter beside the oven. "I love you," she whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

'So what'll it be, Detective?" he murmured when she pulled away. "Dinner first? Or bath?"

It was a surprisingly difficult decision. "Bath," she finally decided, despite the growling of her stomach. "For two."

He smiled and trailed his hand down her back to give her ass a quick squeeze. "Lead on, Miss Beckett."

Kate made quick work of stripping down to her underwear while Rick started the bath and added bubbles. He'd smell like a girl, but he didn't much care. Not when he could tell how distracted she was. Her eyes were glazed over as she went about the habitual makeup removal and he could all but see the brilliant cogs of her mind moving. Her mind rarely shut down, and it was even less likely to do so in the midst of a case. He didn't mind. She was a dedicated detective and she cared so much about her cases and about the people. He smiled to himself as he took care of the pile of clothes she always left by the door. For someone who kept her desk so neat, she was a slob at home.

She was in the bath when he stepped back into the room and he smiled. He took her in, watching as the water continued to ebb and flow around her body. She hadn't turned off the taps and the bubbles continued to grow and shift around her. Even distracted, with tension in every line of her body despite the bath and the wine, she was breathtaking. He turned off the tap and her eyes fluttered open.

"Move up," he requested in a low mumble, pressing a kiss to her head before stripping down himself. With some skilful manoeuvring to minimize spillage, Rick settled in behind her.

"Talk to me," he murmured.

Kate leaned back against him with a heavy sigh, trying to let herself fall into the relaxing rhythm of his hands. "He was after Daphne Morrow," she said at length. "He picks them out. It's all a meticulous plan."

"Daphne is…?"

"The concierge."

"Right." Rick kissed her head and wrapped her tighter in his arms. "So he stalks them. That's no surprise. He pretended to date Molly Carroll."

"But he _didn't_ get Daphne. She refused to go to his hotel room. He didn't try to date her. Lawrence came over when he thought Daphne was in trouble and the guy backed off. Fast." Kate shook her head. "Daphne told us she saw Linda come down, in her dress, before the wedding."

"And Linda's not a native New Yorker," Rick guessed, a few of the puzzle pieces falling into place. "So his initial plan fails, he wanders the hotel, trying to come up with a Plan B, when Linda walks in. He's got a tailor-made victim, dress and all, and goes for it. He's charming, she's single and susceptible because she's at a wedding."

Kate tilted her head back to give him a disapproving look.

"Trust me, I've been there. Women and weddings, if you're charming enough is like shooting fish in a barrel," he explained.

"So he's charming," she said wryly and not without a roll of her eyes. "Smart, meticulous…"

"There's still one unanswered question," he interrupted, pressing a very deliberate kiss against her neck while his thumb stroked the underside of her breast. He was rewarded when she shivered in his arms. "Why you?"

Kate sighed. "Maybe it's not about me," she replied, arching into his touch. "Maybe it's about us. Hell, Rick, you had a more personal connection with Bobby Mann than I did and Sophie Ronson was killed just before your 'One That Got Away' married another man. Maybe it's about you."

He tilted her chin back for a kiss that made her toes curl. "Don't sell yourself short, Detective. And I was still a boy when I met Kyra."

"And you're a man now?" she inquired playfully, the line too good to pass up.

He seemed unfazed by the dig, his hands moving with deliberate purpose now. "Would you like me to show you?"

She shifted, turned, and settled her knees by his hips. "Yes please."

* * *

"So start from the beginning," Rick requested the next morning, settling in front of the murder board. He propped himself on Kate's desk as he passed over a cup of steaming coffee. If he was honest, it was too early to be up, but Kate had been tossing since four and when she hadn't stopped by five-thirty, he bit the bullet.

Kate settled beside him. "Molly Carroll's first," she stated. "He followed her closely, carefully."

"Found out her routines by getting into her pants." He managed to get his cup out of the way before the back of her hand made contact with his chest. "It's true!"

"It's crude," she scolded, half-heartedly.

"He seduced her," Rick amended, just barely managing to hide his smile. "Wined and dined her… But he refuses to meet her friends…"

"He stalked her first, followed her. For months. Then he realized she caught on. Maybe she was looking over her shoulder more often," Kate agreed with a nod, shifting slightly so she was pressed shoulder to knee with Rick.

"So he deliberately sets up the coffee shop meet, deliberately woos her." He shook his head. "He sure went out of his way for a murder victim. Flowers, dates… all when he didn't mean them? Just to get… what?"

"Access?"

Kate and Rick looked up to see Sookhold coming their way.

"Victim two was strangulation," he pointed, taking his cue to continue from Kate's raised eyebrow. "No real prep time necessary."

"Tim Acheson said Brevibloc was Molly's best kept secret," Kate replied. "It's not something you just _tell_ a guy. Not after only a few months." And she would know. She was just as private as Molly.

"So he was sleeping with her then," Rick said with a shrug.

"We have no indication of that," Sookhold argued.

"No," Rick agreed, nodding absently at Ryan and Esposito's near-silent entry. "But if I'm a murderer about to put all of my carefully made plans into action, I already know Bobby Mann's the example. I know I have to induce a heart attack, or something similar. So I seduce her, get her back to her place, _exhaust_ her." He grabbed Kate's wrist gently as she went to slap him again. "When she's asleep, I get up, snoop around, maybe I stumble across the Brevibloc and I realize 'hey, here's exactly what I need'. So maybe I palm some, maybe I take the whole bottle, but either way, I have my murder weapon."

Kate snagged a bear claw from the box Esposito brought over. She chewed thoughtfully as the Hispanic detective nodded appreciatively at Rick.

"Still got it, Bro."

Rick grinned. "Never lost it."

"What about Linda Jax?" Ryan inquired, shuffling his chair over. "She was an opportunity."

"We've got a theory about that too," Kate replied, reaching behind Rick to answer her ringing desk phone. "Beckett."

"Linda Jax had sex just before her death," Lanie's voice came through the phone. "Unprotected."

"DNA?" Kate asked, switching the phone to speaker.

"Oh yeah. We've got the little swimmers." Lanie's grin was audible in her voice. "Just need something to compare it to."

"CODIS?" Sookhold chipped in.

"Didn't see the point. It's a long shot."

The murderer had been covering his tracks well so far. It wasn't a stretch to think that his DNA would be in CODIS.

"But possible," Kate agreed. "Maybe he's so careful _because_ he's in the system."

"I'll give it a shot," Lanie promised. "Meanwhile, the rest of the labs are somewhere in cyberspace. They should be in your e-mail shortly. Standard stuff. Hotel fibres, bruising, everything you'd assume you'd find on a bridesmaid in a hotel room. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks, Lanie." Kate sighed as she hung up. "She's right," she said to Sookhold and Rick. "CODIS is a long shot."

"Law of averages says we have to get lucky sometime," Sookhold said optimistically.

Kate blew out a breath as she hopped off the table. "Ryan, Esposito, you guys start dividing the phone records of Molly Carroll and the hotel. Anything that matches. Rick, we're going to start on the IDs of the hotel guests." She ignored his disgusted look and turned to Sookhold. "IDs or records?"

Sookhold looked to the conference room they'd set up for the hotel IDs the previous night over to the phone records. He let out a heavy sigh. "IDs."

Kate echoed his sigh, turning to Rick. "We're going to need more coffee."

* * *

_This would have been up earlier, but, ha, it wasn't. Long story. I'm exhausted and stressed and gosh I needed to do this. So if it's a little off, I apologize. I did go back in and fix the timeline 'cause it was wonky, but any yucky moments in this are my fault entirely. I need about a week's sleep. Someone hit the life pause button, kay? Good talk. _

_I'm getting better at updating this. It makes me happy. Now only if 'Prove It' could be as helpful. I'd be a happy camper. _

_Cross your fingers. And review?_


	7. Chapter 7

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 7  
_

. . . . .

After eight straight hours of calls and checking and double-checking IDs, Kate felt like her eyes were going to stay permanently crossed. Rick had begged off a few hours before when Paula had called to nag him about the latest edits in his inbox. Kate had laughed when he'd winced at Paula's caller ID and promised him she'd be fine without him. But now… now she needed a break.

And when Rick wasn't around, there was only one way she could let off some quick steam.

The gym was not empty, despite the early-evening hour and Kate found herself shaking her head when she spotted Sookhold at one of the punching bags. He'd disappeared almost half an hour earlier. Now she knew where he went. "Don't you have your own gym?"

He shrugged and grabbed the bag as it swung back at him. "This was more convenient. Need someone to steady the bag?"

"No, thanks." She cocked her head to the side, flexing her tape-bound hands before starting her stretches. "I was hoping for something more… direct."

"Hand-to-hand." His eyes lit up as the grin split his face. As a red-blooded woman, Kate couldn't help but be charmed by the smile. "Now that's more my style."

Kate shifted slightly, warming up for a sparring session rather than a quick workout. "You think we're going to find the guy in our hotel guests?"

"I think if we do, it's going to be an alias," he replied, doing some limbering up for his own. "His whole point is to challenge you. He thinks he can bring you down a peg."

"And you?"

Sookhold recognized her question was as much about the case as it was about his evaluation of her abilities. "I think he's cocky enough to make a mistake. But he sure as hell knows how to give you a hard time."

She chuckled. "And yet, you're here, in the tick of it, instead of heading off on media jaunts with Juddoo. You had your fifteen minutes of fame, _Mark?_"

He copied the crouch she fell into, understanding the professional nature of the personal question. Partners were sacred. Everyday, they were in the field and the one thing an officer had to trust was that the partner was always there. _Always_.

"I'm not much for the limelight," he replied, letting her attack first. He blocked and parried, getting a feel for her style and rhythm. "You, on the other hand, are involved with a Page Six regular."

"Doesn't mean I asked for it," she shot back. She paused in her attack and offered him a bouncing shrug. "I put my life on the line, he comes with reporters on his tail. We each come with our own baggage." She blocked a series of quick jabs. "How long have you been partnered with Juddoo?"

"About six months," Sookhold answered, back on the defensive again. She was good. Good enough that when her leg came out to sweep his feet out from beneath him, he didn't see it coming.

Kate pinned him down. "What happened to his last partner?"

"Transferred within three months." Sookhold had the satisfaction of seeing the surprise in her eyes as he broke her hold and flipped her. "Irreconcilable differences."

She snorted as she avoided his hold and they came to their feet, circling each other. "It's not a Hollywood divorce."

"Jay's… difficult. He's got a chip on his shoulder."

"Yet you've been his partner for six months," she replied. "So there's some sort of loyalty there." She narrowed her eyes. "You're holding back on me."

She was referring to both the information and his martial arts abilities. He grinned. "You couldn't handle full power and I don't want to hurt that pretty face."

Kate felt the thrill of challenge race through her. "Try me."

Sookhold dropped into position and Kate couldn't stop her eyes from widening slightly. The crouch screamed of professional training and Kate had given him the moment of surprise he needed to get under her guard. She was flat on her back, Sookhold pinning her to the mat in the time it took to blink.

"Ha," she huffed out a breathless laugh. "Well then."

In a flash, she was back on her feet, drawing on years of training she'd put herself through. Originally, it had been for self-defense, but then, as a woman, she'd had to take down men twice her size, and still did. Between the benefits to her job and the workout it provided, Kate had kept up with the training and the exercises. But Sookhold fought back, and fought back well. They fell into a sort of rhythm, attacking and blocking, looking for weaknesses. The combinations became increasingly more complicated until they were both sprawled, panting, on the mat, realizing they were pretty evenly matched.

Then Kate started to laugh.

Sookhold pushed himself up on his elbows to lock gazes with her. "I was almost wrong about you."

"Almost?" Kate asked, forcing her exhausted muscles to hold her in an upright position.

He grinned. "You're good."

She accepted the compliment with her own grin. "You're better."

"I don't know about that," he said, pushing himself up and holding out a hand for her. "But thanks."

Kate eyed it for a moment, then accepted it, brushing the dust off her pants. He headed for the showers as she started unwrapping her hands.

"Hey Sookhold," she called.

He turned, slowly.

She cocked her head to the side. "Sticking with us, working with us, doing things my way instead of Juddoo's? Doesn't really show loyalty to your partner.

"Yeah well," he replied with a shrug. "Stubbornness and sexist jealousy shouldn't get in the way of justice. It's just petty."

Kate rolled some stiffness from her shoulders. "Still. Takes guts."

This time, Sookhold grinned. "Maybe I just want to be with the winners when we catch this guy."

"And if we don't win?"

The grin fell off his face. "I don't lose, Beckett. Something tells me we have that in common."

Kate shook her head with a smile. She hadn't intended to like the detective. And yet, Kate found that the faith he was putting in her and in their team made Sookhold less of an invader and more of a partner. She was just packing up her bag, about to head for the shower, when Ryan, out of breath, poked his head into the gym.

"We may have one."

* * *

Kate lay awake that night, absently drawing patterns on Rick's chest. Their potential "one" had been a bust and the straw that broke the Captain's back. He'd sent them home, sympathy in his gaze. They were fraying. Seriously fraying. Which was probably one of the reasons Kate couldn't get her mind to shut down. There was too much information, too much shifting around in her mind.

And nothing helpful.

She hated leaving cases unfinished. She _hated_ being sent home. It was nothing to do with whether or not they had leads. She'd pour over files and files into the depths of night and the early hours of the morning. At least that way she felt like she was doing _something_. Especially since when her mind was whirling she didn't really sleep anyway.

"Sweetheart, you need to _sleep_."

Kate sighed, absently and habitually pulling herself closer. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"When you mean to wake me, it's either very violent or _very_ sexy," he pointed out. His hand slid up and down her back, trying to soothe her. But the tension stayed. He sighed. "Kate…"

She sat up, running a hand through her hair. "I _can't_. There are families out there counting on me, on us, to find out who did this. And he's not finished, Rick. There's going to be more. More victims, more broken families… and even though I know I have nothing, he's taunting _me_."

"And you feel responsible."

God, she loved that he could read her like that, that he knew her that well. "I just… I can't help thinking that if he wasn't fixated on me, Molly Carroll and Linda Jax wouldn't be dead."

"You need to take a break sometimes too, Kate. You'll go back to the case tomorrow with new eyes, fresh eyes, and you'll find something," he encouraged. "But Kate, you _need_ _to sleep_."

She knew he didn't mean anything by it. He never did. He was just looking out for it. But this time, it hit an uncomfortable nerve. "Damnit, Rick."

She threw the covers off and headed for the dresser. She'd go back into the Twelfth, look through it all again. The t-shirt that was as much hers as it was his, fell to the floor as she made her way to the dresser and pulled underwear from the drawers.

"Kate-"

"Don't," she snapped as she headed for the closet. She ignored him when he turned the light on in the bedroom. It was with surprising violence that she yanked on her pants and a blouse. He was behind her when she turned, holding out a hair tie, yesterday's jeans hanging low and open on his hips.

"I just need a new shirt," he told her.

The anger rushed out of her, along with the frustration. She _was_ exhausted. It was another thing she hated about this case. She was running the gamut of emotions and she couldn't find purchase or control. Her fingers paused on the buttons of her shirt. "You stay home. There's no reason for both of us to be sleep deprived."

He just raised an eyebrow. He brushed by her as he reached for his shirt.

"Rick-"

"Kate, it's not worth arguing about. If you're going in, I'm going in."

"You'll be just as exhausted," Kate replied, accepting the tie and putting her hair up as he buttoned her shirt, then his own.

"I'll be exhausted either way," he answered. "You know I don't sleep well when you're not beside me. Plus, I'll just worry about you. At least I can get you food and coffee and make you laugh when I'm there."

Kate grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him down to her mouth. She put as much emotion into it as she could, her gratitude, her frustration… _everything_.

He grinned when she finally let him go and rubbed his nose sweetly against hers. "I love you, too."

She cuddled into his body. "I love you. I really, really love you."

"I love you too," he repeated. "Even when you're crazy an irrational." They stood there in the closet until he pressed a kiss to her head. "Do you still want to go into the precinct?"

"No," she admitted on a sigh. She hadn't really wanted to, she'd just figured it was better than not sleeping. "But… can we… have a couch cuddle?"

He grinned into her hair. Couch cuddles had started during her recovery, when they had a particularly bad night. It could have been pain, it could have been nightmares, but it was a way for them to distract themselves and be together. It entailed moving all of the bedding to the couch and picking a comfort movie. Then with tea or hot chocolate, they simply relaxed. Sometimes they fell asleep. Sometimes they didn't.

"You get the covers, I'll get the drinks. What do you feel like?"

"Chocolate," she responded immediately, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt he'd done up only a moment before. Then she leaned up to kiss him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured against her mouth.

Twenty minutes later, she was snuggled against his body, back in his t-shirt while he'd put his sleep pants back on. With the opening credits of _Eat, Pray, Love_ flashing on the TV. Rick's hand rubbed her stomach as he breathed her in and she held his other hand as she sunk into his body. She didn't expect to fall asleep, but her eyelids drooped. Then fell closed.

When Rick started awake a few hours later, the sky was still as dark as the city lights allowed. Kate slept soundly against him and he smiled as he reached for the remote. He watched her for a moment as she slept, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. He hated that it could be so easy to psych her out, make her doubt herself. And he hated that this guy, whomever he was, didn't know her and could do it anyway. With a heavy sigh, he kissed her cheek gently and hunkered down. He would have to catch sleep while he could. She'd be up and running tomorrow, at the closest thing to full-speed she could.

And he'd be beside her every step of the way.

* * *

_You know, I hate this. I go through days where I can't do jack squat and update nothing to days where I update everything AND post extras. Bah!_

_The fight scene was fun to write. I do hope I did it justice. The next one's going to have some drama and Esplanie (which still makes me shiver when I write it) and it's mostly written. I think. But this story's been coming in spurts and it's never the spurts that I need to write. I have this scene in my head with Alexis and Kate that isn't going to happen for another couple of chapters yet. But it's running through so I have to fix it. _

_And an engagement scene that has nothing to do with anything. We'll see. _

_Reviews are the greatest love!_


	8. Chapter 8

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 8  
_

. . . . .

Rick woke to the harsh trill of a cell phone on the coffee table. It turned out to be Kate's with Esposito's number flashing on the ID. "Esposito."

"Dude! You _know_ it creeps me out when you answer Beckett's phone!" Then there was a pause. "Why are you whispering?"

"Rick?" Kate mumbled.

He sighed. He hadn't wanted to wake her, wanted to give her as much sleep as he possibly could. "It's Esposito."

She sat up immediately, running one hand through tousled hair as she held out the other. Rick handed it over, albeit reluctantly. God, all he'd wanted was for her to get some freaking sleep! All _he_ wanted to do was get some freaking sleep. Instead, he pushed himself out of bed. She'd be in the shower in five, out in ten, he didn't have a lot of time if he wanted to get half decent food in her.

Kate, on the other hand, was completely engrossed by the time the phone was pressed to her ear. Detective Mode on full power. "What is it?"

"We traced a common phone number between Molly Carroll and the hotel," Esposito said, tossing the folder on Kate's desk. "Burn phone."

"God damnit!" she swore.

"I know. Guy wrote his name down as John Smith."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Wish I was," Esposito replied. "Look, right now, we're back to square one."

Kate sighed. "Yeah. Listen, did you and Ryan stick around all night?"

"'Course."

"When I get in, go home. Sookhold and I can hold the fort for the day. We'd just be tossing around theories anyhow, trying to catch a break. I need you guys at your fullest when we do manage to get something."

"Beckett."

"Don't argue," she scolded. "Just do it."

Then she hung up and headed for the shower.

When she emerged she smelled eggs, but found Rick settled at his desk. "Is that my breakfast?" she asked, heading over to him and leaning down for a kiss.

He wrapped his hand into her hair briefly, prolonging the contact, then let her pull away. "It is. Ready to go in Tupperware."

"You're such a good House Husband."

The word jolted him, but she was too out of it to realize it had come out of her mouth. They hadn't talked about marriage. He didn't think it was anywhere close to the table just yet. He assumed she would be the one to talk about it. He forced himself to let it go, to pretend it hadn't happened as she turned her back and headed out of the office. When he didn't follow, she stopped at the door, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"You coming?" she asked, seeing how settled he seemed to be.

"Not this morning," he said with an apologetic smile. "Damned publicist won't get off my back until I get these latest schedule changes back to her. Right now, they interfere with our trip to see your dad in August."

She frowned slightly. "Dad won't mind if we have to move it."

"We've been planning it for months, Paula can move a few appearances," Rick responded. "I'll be in this afternoon. Don't do anything cool without me."

"We never do," she replied with an affectionate smile. "I'll see you later."

"I'll bring coffee and lunch," he agreed.

She was supposed to be leaving, she knew that, but _God_ she missed him. She missed them. "Make it a good lunch."

"Take an hour off and come home. I'll make it _very_ worth your while."

"I can't." And she knew that was all she had to tell him. He understood. "I'll see you later."

He watched her leave, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and he sighed. She was working herself to the bone and though he'd been there as much as he could, his job was actually interfering with their relationship. Well, so was hers, but together, they had schedules that meant they couldn't spend the time together they usually managed to steal. And then the idea hit him. He picked up his phone, scrolling though his contacts until he found the one he was looking for.

"Hey Jim, it's Rick. Did I wake you? Good. Listen, I was wondering if we could move up our vacation."

* * *

Sure enough, she kicked the boys out of the precinct as soon as she arrived, then plopped herself down at her desk. She sighed, chewing her lip before reaching into the top drawer of her desk and withdrawing a small rectangle. She fiddled with the business card.

Rebecca Hall.

The woman had come in after Molly Carroll's murder, spouting phrases about the community, about needing to spread Molly's story and, like she would with any other murder victim, Kate clamped down. She refused to give information.

But it was getting out of control.

Juddoo, it seemed, was doing everything in his power to make himself look good and the Twelfth look bad. The press coverage he'd aimed for was working too. She was frustrated, angry even, and she knew the Captain had been fielding calls for the last forty-eight. Because said Captain had pulled her into his office for an update on everything they had.

So now Kate was considering doing something she _never_ did: calling in the press.

As a general rule, she hated the press. They tended to undermine her investigations rather than supporting them and she had no time or patience for it when a serial killer was on the loose. Usually, she preferred to leave the press up to talented professionals, people like Rick's Paula, who had extensive training on how to deal with the press, what to say and how to spin a story to get the right results. But she felt like Juddoo had backed her into a corner. She needed to fight back and she needed to do it on her turf.

So she picked up the phone.

"Hall."

"Detective Beckett," Kate replied, allowing herself the insecure tick of winding her fingers through the cord on her desk phone.

"Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure."

Kate chewed her lip, then went with her gut. "Remy's. Fifteen minutes."

"I'm across town on another story-"

"You want something on your friend, you want what's _really_ going on, you come."

"You're going to talk to me about Molly's murder? Seriously?"

"I'll wait fifteen, Hall. You're not there, I have work to do."

She hung up and hoped to God she was doing the right thing.

. . . . .

Rebecca was wired.

She'd been working crime for less than six months and nothing as juicy as Molly's murder had ever come _near_ her desk. It made sense, really. She was an amateur, the baby of the well-versed crime beat bunch, but she had ambition in spades and she was itching to make it work for her. Which was why she'd ambushed Detective Beckett as soon as she could get her fashionable butt to the Twelfth Precinct.

And then she'd been blown off.

Not that she faulted Beckett, really. With a guy like Rick Castle, the press was bound to be a major part of her life. Rebecca could understand why Beckett would be so adverse to the idea. But Rebecca had figured this was murder, not her personal life, and the detective would be more open to sharing details if it meant catching a killer. But that wasn't how it had gone down at all. Instead, Beckett had defended Molly and her family. She'd railed against the media that was more focused on the story than allowing people to grieve in peace. It was obvious that what Beckett wanted was the unvarnished truth, without frills, reasoning or the story.

The way she'd protected Molly's dignity had boosted Rebecca's respect for her. Molly had been a friend, and a really good woman. Rebecca had liked her.

So, naturally, Rebecca had allowed her journalist instinct to kick in. She'd done research, gone digging in the police files, asked around to the more senior staff to see what she could glean about the detective who seemed to stand up so strongly for the victim and for the victim's family. She'd gone days without sleep, trying to balance her real workload with understanding the woman who was fighting for Molly. The record spoke for itself. She fought hard for what she believed in and she believed in truth and justice. She was the classic crusader with a badge in one hand and a gun in the other, aiming for nothing short of real justice.

Admittedly, everything she'd read had made Rebecca, well, a little bit of a fan.

So it was nothing short of an absolute thrill to have said detective call her and demand a meeting. Even though she'd broken almost every traffic law in the city to get there within the woman's half hour window. Which explained why she was huffing and puffing as she raced through the door of the diner, searching frantically for Beckett.

When the other woman caught her attention and waved her over, Rebecca thought for sure she saw a flash of admiration in the other woman's eyes.

"Detective."

"Miss Hall."

"Rebecca. Please."

They sat in silence while the waiter poured a cup of coffee for Rebecca. Once that was done and Rebecca had taken her first sip, she raised blue eyes to Beckett's. "Tell me about Molly."

The detective leaned forward. "First, I want you to listen. I'm trusting you with this. I came to you because you came to me and I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of people. You want the story, but your friend is just as important and you respected me when I told you there was nothing you were going to get from me. This is a big deal. This is beyond Molly."

"This is about the other detective," Rebecca replied, feigning nonchalance. Inside, she was hopping, half out of nerves, half our of excitement. Beckett was the lead investigator on one of the biggest cases New York had seen in a long time.

"He's undermining my investigation," the other woman replied. "He's casting doubt on my abilities, he's spending more time catering to the press than working the cases and he wants the glory, whether it's the truth or not. He forgets that we're dealing with real people, real families, who don't like seeing their loved ones plastered across the front page like sacrifices to the serial killer gods."

Rebecca could vaguely see that, disturbing picture of serial killer gods aside. Her colleagues had been singing the man's praises, how open he was with the press, how eager he was to talk about the case and how quick he was to cast doubt on the NYPD homicide squad's star. She pulled a recorder out of her bag. "Okay, let's start with this: you fight for the truth, for the real deal. Not like how we can fight for the story, sensationalize it, instead of just telling it. You want the facts. I admire that. So before we delve into this, because you're asking me to put a very specific spin on a really nasty story, I want you to know that I want to be fair."

Beckett blinked, but her face stayed blank.

"You want the truth and I want the truth. Not like my colleagues who, yes, are swallowing everything Detective Juddoo is saying, including the spin. But you… You've kept your mouth shut and you've done it because you feel like it's the best way to get the guy."

Rebecca leaned forward. "Molly was a friend, Detective. I wasn't lying about that. I want to see her killer brought to justice. I think you're the best person to do it."

The vote of confidence seemed to spark something in Beckett's eyes. Some of the tension leaked out of her shoulders and Rebecca took that as her cue to turn on the recorder. "You're going to be fair?"

"As I can. You want a spin on it, or you wouldn't have called me."

Beckett played with the handle of her mug for a moment. "What we know is that they're connected. Molly Carroll's case, to Linda Jax. They're not just random murders. They're planned, meticulous, and about me."

Rebecca perked up. "Nice touch. Personal."

"Very personal," Beckett agreed. "He's picking cases I've worked. Old ones. Ones where Rick helped out."

"So not necessarily about you."

Something shot through Beckett's eyes and this time Rebecca knew it was admiration. "Me or Rick. Either way, it's become personal. He wants something. We don't know what. Maybe it's attention, which he's getting in spades thanks to Detective Juddoo. Maybe it's something else. Either way, he's got it all planned out."

Rebecca paused, thinking. She'd jumped at the chance, but she hadn't had a chance to figure out how she wanted to go about it. She went with her gut. "Why you?"

"We don't know," Beckett admitted. "He's given us no indication of whether it's because of me or because of Rick or-"

"No," Rebecca interrupted. "Why is Detective Juddoo out to get _you_?"

"Oh. Is that even relevant?"

"To the story? Yes. Look, Detective, you want your side of the story out there but that means you're going to have to give some of the heat back to Detective Juddoo. So why is he after you? Did you do something to him? Beat him at something? Emasculate him?"

Beckett's eyes narrowed. "How can I emasculate a man when I didn't even know him?"

"You didn't?"

"No," Beckett replied. "I don't think Juddoo and I ever crossed paths before the Molly Carroll crime scene. The next thing I know he's calling me a 'media whore' and snapping at me at every turn. He's focusing on destroying me. How can we focus on the case with that kind of media attention? How am I supposed to conduct an objective investigation when one of my own is busy trying to destroy a reputation I worked hard to cultivate?"

Rebecca nodded. "It's a good spin, a good story. I can use that. But I need more."

"More?" Beckett raised her eyebrows and Rebecca was suddenly struck with why so many perps confessed to her. It was kind of a scary face.

But Rebecca held her ground. "I need something to validate this. Tangible evidence. Link it back to the case."

"How?"

"Tell me something the public doesn't know. Tell me about Molly, or the second woman-"

"Linda Jax."

Rebecca filed the name away, if only to make sure should the detective call in the future Rebecca never heard the granite in her voice. "Or even the third."

Beckett froze. "What?"

"The third victim."

Beckett reached over, picking up the recorder and turning it off.

"Hey!"

"What third victim," Beckett pressed. "We don't have a third victim."

"Detective Juddoo was all over the news this morning talking about a new victim. A third victim." Rebecca paused. "You didn't know."

A hand went up to the detective's forehead and Rebecca could see her massaging at the muscles there. She felt bad, to be honest. She hadn't wanted to add to Beckett's stress.

Finally, Beckett's hand dropped. "Juddoo never told us there was a new victim. No one called."

"What about his partner?"

"Sookhold's been working with us, in the Twelfth. Juddoo refuses to set foot in the building. Has since his captain assigned the case to me." She slammed a hand on the table. "_Damnit_."

Rebecca tucked the recorder – Beckett had set it back on the table after turning it off – back into her bag. "That's a pretty good spin."

Beckett seemed to consider her for a minute. "Ask him about the note."

"What?" Rebecca asked.

"The evidence that we haven't released. He leaves notes. For me. Ask Juddoo about the notes."

Rebecca nodded solemnly as Beckett shoved out of the booth. When she was gone, Rebecca couldn't help herself. She released a quiet squeal all but dancing in her seat. She got an exclusive and she'd managed to pick up new information to boot! Her editor was going to _love_ her and she was going to be the envy of the entire newsroom.

But she wasn't stupid either. This was a fight she wanted Beckett to win. So she'd be careful with the way she wrote it, with what she wrote. She could make it about Molly, about Linda, about the third victim – whose name she made a mental note to memorize at the first opportunity. She'd take a page out of Beckett's book. She'd fight for the victim and in the process she'd make sure her audience knew Detective Beckett did exactly the same thing.

* * *

"Daniela Vittorini. Twenty-four. Killed two days ago."

Kate dropped her head into her hands as Sookhold slapped the folder down on the corner of her desk. "What the hell?"

"I didn't know until you called me," Sookhold replied snappishly. The goddamned press had gotten it. Juddoo had talked to them and not to the damned _lead investigator_.

She perused it for a moment, then looked up at the anger and betrayal written with stark clarity across Sookhold's face. She reigned in her own with Herculean strength. _No one_ messed with her cases. "Shit," she breathed. "Shit, shit, shit."

Sookhold dropped into Rick's chair. The anger deflated out of him when he realized she wasn't going to slap at him. Too bad. He'd wanted an easy target, and he'd learned rather quickly that though Detective Beckett looked like a wisp, she had a spine of granite and balls of steel. He would have been able to take it all out on her without leaving a scratch. "Jay's been hiding it."

"I caught that much," she answered on a sigh. "Is this a full file?"

"Took me some time to put together. The lab boys weren't happy about having to repeat their findings."

Kate muttered under her breath, swear words in languages she'd picked up during semesters abroad.

Sookhold smiled when she muttered something about where the lab boys could shove it, as she picked up the phone. He arched an eyebrow when she met his gaze.

"Lanie's going to flip," she replied to the unasked question. "You may want to cover your ears."

"Parish."

"Lanie, I need you to go over an autopsy for me."

Lanie sighed. "Girl, I get that I'm your go-to girl for this kind of stuff, and I'm honoured that you always come to me, but I can't go over every cold case for you. I have my own caseload too."

"It's not a cold case," Kate replied with a heavy sigh.

"It doesn't matter. I still have a caseload."

"Just… Please, Lanie. It's connected."

Lanie paused, then exhaled. "Give me a name."

God, it was hard. They were all running on fumes, and if Kate and Rick had barely found time to collapse into a dead sleep, Kate had no doubt that it had been harder for Lanie and Esposito. Despite the fact that they both worked in law enforcement, Kate knew the unpredictable schedules of the ME and the detective wreaked havoc on their relationship.

"Vittorini, Daniela," Kate replied, rubbing at the headache forming in her skull. "Sookhold brought me the file five minutes ago. The reporters knew about it before we did."

"You serious?" Lanie questioned. "Glory-seeking jackass."

Kate chuckled.

"Got it. Lab reports too?"

"Please," Kate answered. She glanced up at Esposito just as the Hispanic detective rubbed his temples. "I'll send Esposito to give you a hand."

"I don't-" Then Lanie caught on. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Girl."

Kate hung up, feeling the exhaustion creep through her again. "Esposito," she called. "Lanie wants you down at the morgue." She paused. "Take food with you."

A grin spread quickly across Esposito's face. "On it, Boss."

Kate dropped her head into her hands as Esposito jogged away. "Damn him."

It didn't take a genius to figure out she was talking about Juddoo and the stress he'd just thrown on their shoulders. They were three days behind now.

"Beckett," Sookhold began. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she admitted on the sigh. "I know it's not your fault."

Sookhold looked past her to the two bards. "For what it's worth, I don't agree with Jay's decision. This kind of case… You want as many heads on it as you can get. Especially the good ones." He shrugged.

Kate smiled, then reached into the top drawer of her desk for the Aspirin bottle she kept there. She tipped two into her hand, then shook the bottle at him. Much like their battle in the gym, it wasn't a peace offering, but it was a symbol. He accepted the pills with a thankful smile.

Kate echoed it, then looked over at the boards. "Hey Ryan."

The other detective looked up.

Kate smiled thinly. "We're going to need another board."

* * *

Javier paused in the doorway to the morgue. It had been a week since he'd found any downtime with his gorgeous ME and it was grating on his last nerve. But Kate had given him a way to steal some time and he was planning on taking full advantage of it. He wasn't usually one to mix business and pleasure, but for this, for her, he was willing to break the rules. If he could ever stop staring at her.

"I can smell fries." She turned. "If you wanted to sneak up on me, bringing fries was stupid."

He offered her a grin. "No sneaking," he promised, stepping in. "Along with a second eye. I was ordered to bring food."

She abandoned what she was doing to wrap her arms around him. There mouths met just as he deposited the food on a nearby autopsy table. Her hands wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him there with a strength that surprised him. The passion between them spiked hot and fast and desperate, stemming from the little time they'd had together. He had her sitting on the slab, standing between her spread legs before either of them really realized they'd moved.

"Doctor Parish, I – Oh!"

Javier and Lanie broke apart, breathing heavily and flustered and Javier took a little step back. His eyes slammed closed and he released a string of Spanish expletives under his breath as she slid off the table, and against him in the process.

The young tech darted in. "Sorry. Really sorry. Um…" he held up the file, blushing. "The Vittorini labs. He dropped the file on her desk. The file said the primary picked it up though so I-"

"Hillenbrande," Lanie snapped.

"Right. Leaving."

Javier was grinning when Lanie turned her head back to him. "Miss me, Cari?"

Lanie surprised him by slipping her arms around his waist and just holding on. He bundled her up tight and followed her lead.

"I know you're dedicated to your job," she said into his shoulder. "It's one of the things I admire most about you. But sometimes, it kinda sucks."

"Yeah," Javier agreed. Eventually, they stepped back and Lanie went for the files on her desk.

"Alyson Tisdale," she announced as she brought the pages and the new file of labs towards the makeshift table he was setting.

He arched an eyebrow. "No… Daniela Vittorini."

She smirked, then flipped open the file. She pulled out three pictures, tossing them on the slab. Javier looked them over. The crime scene photos in the file showed Daniela Vittorini on a long table, covered from neck to toes in red rose petals. The kicker were the two sunflowers placed precisely over her closed eyes. Javier sighed.

"Alyson Tisdale."

"Forensics is still combing through the rose petals. We're hoping for at least a partial on one of them. But the rest of it tracks. Two shots to the chest, small calibre."

"Anything else?"

"In the autopsy?" Lanie shook her head. "Like I said, there's still forensics to comb through. No sex, no DNA, nothing like Linda Jax."

"But he didn't jump her?"

"No sign of it. No bash to the head, no obvious needle marks. I'm going over the body again now that I've had it reassigned to me. From now on, all labs, forensics, _everything_ comes through me."

Javier rubbed a hand down his face. "He's got another victim. Three day delay means he has another victim."

"Detective Sookhold? Hear he brought our girl the file," Lanie said, digging into the burger he set in front of her. Her eyes closed as she bit into it. "You are a god."

"Nice to know the way to my girl's heart is through her stomach," Javier quipped, biting into his own.

She swiped a fry from him, just because she could. "Tell me about this Sookhold."

* * *

_SOAPBOX AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

_Kay, I want to do something really quick here. I'm crossing my fingers this'll get read and I won't have to deal with it later. I'm not upping the rating for this story. It's going to stay "T". There's a lot of M-rated stuff popping up (and we all know I'm prone to my own from time to time) and there's a lot of people who are making the choice to change their story rating. That's your perogative and I don't mean to judge you on that decision. _

_Having said that, I want to make sure you guys know that's not a decision I'm even considering, let alone making. Sometimes, yes, the situation may call for it. Other times, as I have learned through you guys, it's just gratuitous smut and doesn't serve a purpose. So I'm being _very_ careful in ensuring this stays within the "T" rating. The focus isn't about the physical, it's everything else and I do truly feel that adding anything physical in this fic would take away from the rest of the roller coaster. Of course, it may get stretched from time to time, but I want to keep away from the explicit.  
_

_Well, that and with the exception of "Them" (which I needed to write as much as you guys wanted to see it), the entire series has been rated "T". I'm a bit OCD in the sense that I want to keep it that way. _

_So, when the time comes (and it's passed too!) please don't ask me if I'm going to write the M-rated stuff. There's so much more to this that I've been having a blast exploring and a lot of it is actually new to me. I'm diving into things and trying things that I haven't tried before (like taking my time!) and it's another little self-challenge to make sure it stays suitable for as many people as possible. _

_My apologies if you think that's being a bit presumptuous or irritating to feel like I have to say that. It's been something that's been itching at me for the longest time and I really needed to get it out. _

_. . . . ._

**_REAL AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**

_But! Now that it's out of the way, let's celebrate my longest chapter ever. This ranked in at over 4000 words and though I've written stories that long, I don't think I've ever written a chapter of that length. EVER. But it all needed to happen and each scene in this was important in it's own way and I didn't want to put any of it later… Know what? Someday, when I understand my logic, I'll let you guys in on it, deal?_

_I'm so hoping the journalism part is as close to real as is possible for fiction. I picked my journalism roommate's brain. And I also hope I managed to make all of the corrections to fit it in! It was the last part written for this chapter and kind of a last minute addition when I realized I needed Rebecca Hall later and needed some serious damage control for Kate, so the segues may not be as smooth as I'd wanted. I tried to read it over and make sure, but I'm human, not the trivia-crazy computer they created for Jeopardy (journalism roommate's a huge Jeopardy nerd and had to watch) so I'm bound to miss something.  
_

_In the meantime, I'd appreciate thoughts on the chapter. I really really would. And if I could have your forgiveness for this NOVEL of an AN, I'd appreciate that too. There was a lot I needed to get off my chest.  
_


	9. Chapter 9

_*To Gayle. You know why._

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 9  
_

. . . . .

Larry Neece was not an idiot.

You didn't get to be top dog by being an idiot, just like you didn't get there on politics alone. Not at his age. He'd worked bloody tooth and nail to get to where he was.

Oh yeah, and he wasn't an idiot.

But he'd bided his time. He'd been Juddoo's captain long enough to know that the man was a bit of a loose cannon. But he also knew why. To a certain extent, he couldn't fault the chip on Jay's shoulder. Nevertheless, he was obligated to step in when it got in the way of cases.

Admittedly, it had crossed that line a while ago, but Larry had been hoping that either Jay would come to his senses and work _with _the Twelfth or Mark would lose his cool on Jay and put him in his place. Larry had seen the latter happen before and that was why he was just now eyeing Jay. Well, that, and a rather flattering article on Detective Beckett's work while simultaneously calling Jay out on how effectively he was burying key information.

It had, to use the colloquial term, sucked to pull Jay off as lead. But Larry knew when to fold. And with the notes and the connection, he hadn't really been given much of a choice. When he'd looked into the woman, well, even he'd been impressed. He could see why Roy catered to the team. They were unconventional, definitely, but solid as a rock and twice as strong. They were friends and they cared and that was what made them such a good team. All four of them.

He was also jealous. But that didn't stop him from recognizing when there was a problem. And there was a big one. Larry knew just where to start.

He'd called Mark that morning, after browsing the paper. Since the man had been working over at the Twelfth, barely coming by unless it was to pick up something before disappearing again. To Larry, it made perfect sense, but it also meant that he couldn't just poke his head out to talk to his detective. The knock on his doorframe startled him, but it didn't show in the smooth way he raised his head to take in his detective critically.

"You look like shit."

"Yeah well," Mark replied. "That's what happens when the team doesn't play like a team."

"Problem at the Twelfth?"

"It's not them and you know it."

Larry allowed a quirk of the lips in acknowledgment. "Want to give me your side?"

Mark took that as his invitation and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him and taking a seat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met his captain's eyes. "Jay's making it _very _difficult to get things done," he said. "I can understand rivalry. We all have a case closure rate to maintain in order to get funding… I get that. But to undermine someone else in the process? That's immature Cap."

Larry just raised an eyebrow. He wasn't about to contradict his detective, but he wasn't going to outright agree either.

"You know he didn't tell anybody about Vittorini?" Mark asked, finally leaning back in his chair. He looked laid back, but every line of his body was tense. "Know how we found out about it? The woman who wrote the article about Beckett told her. When I came to see Jay about it yesterday, he bit my head off and refused to hand over everything. The lab's so backed up that when I went down to ask them for another copy of the results, two of them tried to bite my head off."

Larry absorbed the news, trying to keep his face neutral. He'd always known Jay was his loose cannon. Was he finally flying off the handle?

"And yeah, Jay's always been pretty territorial about his cases, but… Cap, he's not the best. He's not seamless like these guys are. Honestly? It's been a great atmosphere to work in. There's no hierarchy. Beckett's the leader, but the boys follow her because she's good. They're good. They know where they stand, they know their roles and they play 'em well. Even the damned writer we all gave her flack for knows he's there as the comedic relief and utter absurdity. And you know what? That thinking actually helps."

Larry took the comments as they were meant. Mark was pissed at Jay's decisions. It had nothing to do with the way he ran his precinct or the way Roy ran his. Larry wasn't stupid enough not to understand that every detective meshed with different people in different environments. Hell, he'd spent the first seven years of his career in a precinct that spent all twenty-four hours belittling those that weren't part of the main clique. Even the captains.

Needless to say he'd gotten out of that precinct quick.

Mark was the team player type and he always had been. It was the reason Larry had figured maybe he and Jay could work. Jay had become fiercely independent about two and a half years ago, refusing to work with anyone who questioned him, who didn't do things his way. Mark had been the longest-running partner since then, somehow able to find a way to get Jay to listen.

Now, it seemed, that partnership was falling apart.

"I get that Jay's supposed to be on our team, but he's not playing with us. He's like that damned player that refuses to pass because he's going to get all the goals, all the success despite the number of drills. And if we lose a game, he's the first one to go running to coach that it was someone else's fault."

"How bad is it?" Larry asked after a moment's deliberation.

"If I was in her shoes, I'd've filed with IAB. I can deal with infighting, Cap, but this is just insane. And we're sacrificing time and resources in the process."

"But she hasn't."

Mark shrugged. He couldn't make sense of that. For a no-nonsense detective she was certainly taking a lot of flack. "Something needs to be done. I've tried talking to him, tried to make him see that he's making a mistake and she could be a damned _asset_ but he's not listening because he's not the lead."

"But you think we made the right decision, giving the case to her."

"I think it's the logical one," Mark replied with surprising diplomacy considering how vehemently he'd railed against Jay. "The notes were addressed to her. If anyone's going to be able to put together why this guy chose those cases, it's going to be Beckett and her team. And they're going to be the ones to know if there's something off about the murders. I'm not saying Jay's a bad detective, and I'm not saying that we couldn't do it; I'm saying she's got the most applicable knowledge."

"And you like her."

"Damn right."

Larry sighed, rubbing a hand against his forehead in an uncharacteristic show of frustration and irritation. "He's got one more chance," he told Mark, his decision one that had been final by the time he'd finished Rebecca Hall's article. "Send him in."

So Mark stood, exited the office and was met head on by Jay.

"You go crying to Daddy?"

Mark let his eyes slip closed. He was exhausted, frustrated and rightfully angry at the man the NYPD called his partner. Still, he knew going off on him wasn't going to help anyone. It never did. He took his time turning around to face his purple-faced 'partner'. "I didn't go crying to anyone," he replied, voice neutral. "Neece called me in this morning. Asked me about the case. I gave him honest answers, Jay. That's all."

"Detective Whore giving you something on the side?" Jay asked snidely. "This isn't very partner-ly behaviour. I may just have to file a complaint."

"Then do it," Mark snapped. He stepped closer and, as the taller of the two, looked down into Jay's eyes. "You do what you need to do to help yourself feel better but I guarantee you at the end of the day it's going to be worth shit. No matter what you do, no matter who you go whining to, justice wins, Jay. You're playing politics. Or trying to. But you're playing the wrong side. Beckett's good. Her team's good. You? You don't know what a team is."

"You'll be eating your words when I crack this case."

And the easy-going Mark Sookhold snapped. "Crack your head in the process," he growled. "Do us all a favour. And while you're at it, find a new partner. I'm done."

Larry, who'd witnessed the whole thing, waited until Jay went to go after Mark. "Juddoo," he called. "A word." His voice was hard and brooked no argument. Jay glared at Mark's retreating back and mumbled something, probably obscene, under his breath. Larry didn't back down an inch. "My office. Now."

Jay didn't sit, but did slam the door. "You're not going to dress me down."

Larry arched an eyebrow. He wasn't a pushover, the same way he wasn't an idiot. "Give me a damned good reason I shouldn't file an official reprimand, Juddoo. Now."

"Because it's my case!" Juddoo exploded. "And no damned cop bitch is going to take it away from me!"

"That's not your call. It's mine and Captain Montgomery's. It's the commissioners."

"Because the commissioner's in her damned hand! You can't see it can you? She's got you all fooled, all hypnotized. Perfect Detective Beckett. She's better than all of us, superior to all of us. But she's not 'cause she has _nothing_."

"Neither do you." Larry leaned forward with a heavy sigh, knowing that despite the fact that Jay was standing, he held all the power. "Smarten up, Juddoo. I don't want to have to call IAB, but if you don't learn the meaning of teamwork I'm not going to have a choice. I can't have you making life difficult for another detective. You're on the same damned side."

Jay snarled, but Larry's face didn't change a smidge.

"You work with Beckett, or I call IAB and you don't work it at all. The choice is yours. Get out."

Jay slammed the door again, rattling the glass, but not Larry. He'd done what he knew he needed to do, even if he didn't like doing it. He barely resisted the urge to drop his head in his hands and instead picked up the phone. If he was lucky, he would catch his three-year-old at home.

And he could really use the pick-me-up.

* * *

Roy caught Kate on her way in. "Detective."

"Captain," Beckett answered warily.

It took a jerk of his head to have his best detective change course to his office. He closed the door behind her, and while she sat, he leaned against his desk. "I saw the article."

Kate sighed. "And?" She had no idea which way Roy was going to lean.

In reality, Roy was kind of proud of her. While he would have preferred if she cleared it with him first, if they figured out a plan of attack so his own ass wasn't on the line, from the lines he could see and her posture, she'd done what she felt she had to do to get her case back. He couldn't fault her that. Still… "Rather public, isn't it?"

"Captain, I've _tried_," Kate said. "I've tried talking to him, telling him, ordering him… he doesn't listen to me. And I can't get anything done anymore. He. Hid. A. Case. The only reason we found out about Daniela Vittorini was because he told a damned reporter. Before telling me."

Roy didn't have to ask why she didn't look on the news. Kate had never really been an avid watcher and even less so now that she was often mentioned in her relationship with the once-playboy author.

"I was at the end of my rope and I didn't feel like I had any other decision. Miss Hall approached me about the Molly Carroll murder."

"So you threw her a bone."

Kate's eyes flashed. "I fought fire with fire," she shot back, losing her iron grip on her temper just slightly. "Seems the only way Juddoo's willing to listen."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I don't know," she admitted, deflating. "Look, this already feels like it's spinning out of my hands. I'm losing victims to a self-centered detective, and I'm losing leads to some… jerk who's found some way to keep below the radar."

"What's the likelihood he has another victim?" Roy asked.

"In his sights or at this moment?" Kate replied. "If he even has a pattern? He's got another one."

"Do you have anything?"

"We're spending the morning going back through Juddoo's witness and interview list," Kate replied, her irritation showing through again. "The statements he gave Sookhold are bare bones at best and he's not going to give the real ones up easily. We tried finding the reports, but either he hasn't filed them yet or he's deliberately holding them back."

He considered his detective carefully taking in the bags under her eyes, the frustration in her posture. "Get me a report," he told her. "Everything. By end of shift."

"But sir-"

"Beckett if this goes further, if this has to go to IAB, I need everything in writing." He took the other seat in front of his desk, leaning forward. "I'm on your side. I need this to make sure we've both covered our asses."

* * *

It was after six by the time Kate surfaced from the day's work and she only did because her phone rang shrilly beside her.

"Beckett," she answered distractedly, shortly.

"Hey Hon," came Rick's cheery voice and Kate felt exhaustion and relief flood her body simultaneously. The ease with which she let herself be vulnerable with him often meant that she didn't mind being exhausted or relieved when he was around.

"Hi," she replied.

"Just checking to see if you're going to be home for dinner." She could hear sounds of the street in the background, but no judgment in his voice.

She looked to her computer clock and groaned at the time. "I'm going to be another hour, at least."

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

"I'm sorry, Rick," she sighed even though there was no recrimination in his voice. "Montgomery wants a report on all of our findings to date."

"Hey, no apologies necessary. It's been a long time since we had dinner over a case."

It hadn't been. Arguably too many of their dinners had been over case files and evidence bags, but she loved that he didn't care. Still. "No, Rick. Go home."

The elevator dinged in the background and she looked up to find Rick stepping off the elevator, two plastic bags in one hand, the other holding the phone to his ear. "Too late."

She hung up with a gentle smile. "You didn't have to do this."

"True," he replied with a cocky grin. "But I wanted to have dinner with the woman I love." He plopped the bags on his chair. "Plus, I've been very unhelpful on this case. This needs to be rectified immediately."

Kate smiled and tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Still, she stood and tipped her face up to his, needing his reassuring presence. It was a soft, sweet brush of lips, a thank you, and an 'I love you' in a gesture. He squeezed her hand as she stepped back.

"I'm not sure what we have," she confessed.

"Well, update me on Daniela Vittorini and let's see if we can shake something loose," he replied, reaching into a bag and withdrawing a set of chopsticks.

So they talked and ate, Rick adding his own pithy comments and passionate opinions on Detective Juddoo's rather unfortunate choices through her walkthrough.

"Well, the butler's out," he commented, absently stabbing his chopsticks into the carton he held so he could run his hands through her hair. He was on her desk, close enough to the edge that she'd rested her head on his stomach, her own carton cradled in her lap.

She made a sound of confusion through a mouthful of lo mein and swallowed. "There is no butler."

"Exactly," he grinned down at her as he scratched at her scalp and watched her eyes flutter shut. He sobered. "You know what you _do_ have."

"Nothing. I have nothing."

"Not true. You have plenty of information in front of you."

"With _nothing_," she repeated. "You're not listening to me." She moved to push away and he tightened his hold on her hair. Marginally.

"What you have is all the details with no correction," he soothed, returning to scratching her scalp when she relaxed. "So think. Together. This is just any other case."

"But it's not."

"Kate," he deliberately used the whiney child voice. "Look at the Molly Carroll scene. Isolated. What do you see?"

"Now's not the time for games Rick."

"Good, because I'm not playing one. Work with me."

She rolled her eyes. "I see a pretty girl."

"Strangled to death."

"Smothered," she corrected, dipping into her dinner again. "Because she didn't die fast enough. He dated her, sent her flowers, chocolate, took her out. Spent money on her. Just to kill her?"

"So he knew he was going to copy the Bobby Mann case," Rick added. "Pretty news anchor poisoned to death. Mostly."

"So he dated Molly. Deliberately. To get to me." She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "Then why drop her in Juddoo's jurisdiction? Why not drop her where he's guaranteed to get me as the lead detective? To get my team?"

"Because that's part of his plan?"

"That's too conspiracy theory, too calculated for it to be someone I put away. And you'd need access to those cases. It's not like just anyone is going to go digging into old records."

That made Rick shiver, both in memory of his own foray into the police records and the implication she was making. "You think Juddoo was personally involved?"

Kate considered this a moment. "No," she finally said. "He's an asshole but… Something tells me even he wouldn't drop to the level of murder. And I don't think I've ever met him. As angry as he is, as pissed off that he doesn't have the case, he's not certifiably insane."

He tilted her head to the side. "So Molly Carroll was planned."

"To the letter. But Linda Jax was a convenience."

Rick turned his head to the murder board, considering it carefully. "Where's the connection between the victims? There has to be something other than convenience that links them, right? Because the only other connection is to you and your cases."

"Our cases," she corrected. "You were involved in each one of these."

"If it's you," he hypothesized. "Maybe it's because you're with me? Because you chose me?"

"Or you chose me."

He almost told her that falling in love with her hadn't been a choice. Instead, he answered, "You don't believe that."

"My gut tells me we're not looking for a woman," she agreed. "And my gut tells me it's not about you. If it was about you, the notes would be taunting you, or scolding me, not about how he's smarter than I am."

"You really don't think it's an ex-con?" he inquired, feeling his own frustration grow. They needed a solid lead and it didn't help that she felt like every step she took was being watched with keen eyes, just waiting for her to make a mistake, to slip up. She couldn't afford to be anything other than perfect and that put a lot of pressure on her shoulders since she couldn't find _something_ to grab onto.

"Haven't looked into it," she admitted. "Wouldn't the note say he wasn't going to be outsmarted _again_ though? Something with reference to the past?"

"Honey, I'm not a psychologist," he murmured. "But it's not like you to leave a stone unturned."

She sighed and pushed herself up, moving to stand in front of the board. One arm crossed over her stomach, still holding the Chinese carton. She supported her elbow on that arm, her chin with her hand. He just watched, watched her fight to make her mind work, fight to put together the missing piece. She started moving her finger from picture to picture, note to note. She could do it. She just had to look hard enough.

"Sweetheart, stop," he said gently, grasping her wrist. "Look, I know you're desperate to find something, _anything_, but we both know we're exhausted. We're tired and we've looked over this too many times. We need to go home, we need to take our eyes off this and in the morning, we'll come back and try again."

The anger washed through her, swift and violent. "God damnit Rick! It's not that easy! I can't just turn it off! And for God's sake there are people _counting _on me! They're families! People!"

"And they're not you."

"I know that." She pouted. Just a little.

"Do you?' he shot back. "You think if you push that little bit harder, work just a little bit more it'll work. Something will jump out at you if you go over it just one more time. And yet we both know that when you're this exhausted, when we're both this exhausted, we're useless. Tired detectives make mistakes, Kate and you _know_ that."

He was frustrated. She could see that. But she was frustrated too.

"So what? I should just give up?"

"Of course not!" He looked offended that she'd ever throw out an idea like that. "Do you honesty believe I would ask you to walk away from a case? Walk away from a victim?"

She whirled on him. "I don't know what to think!" The minute the words were out of her mouth her entire being deflated. She folded in on herself.

Rick knew he had his chance. "Kate-"

She held out a hand. "I know you're right," she said after a moment. "I know I have to take a break, to walk away from it, to sleep and eat real food. I _know_ that. I'm not naïve enough to know that when I get into these things I don't take care of myself. But I _need_ to be here."

"I know you do," he promised softly. "I know how much this means to you, how much your job means to you."

"You do," she agreed, finally raising her head to look at him. "I can't turn it off."

"So use me," he told her, taking the chance to step closer. "However you need to."

Kate glanced to the murder board, then back to the man who looked so incredibly concerned and exhausted. He was trying to keep up with her, trying to do his job and help with hers. And he didn't sleep well when she wasn't there. "Let's go home."

He looked surprised.

"We'll go home, get six hours and come back. I'll even let you buy breakfast."

She was aiming for normalcy, for some sort of regularity. She was looking for the comfort levels they'd had in the past, the stability she missed of coffee and a bear claw. So he just grinned. "Of course."

She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist as his settled around her shoulders. She absorbed him for a moment, in a way she really hadn't let herself do since they'd landed the first body. He kissed her temple.

"You _will_ solve this case, Sweetheart," he murmured into her hair. "I know you. You will solve this."

As irrational as it may have been, his unwavering faith, his vote of confidence, was enough to give her new resolve. She'd go home. Sleep curled against the man she loved and then she'd come into work and she'd catch the son of a bitch.

Period.

* * *

_Do you guys have any idea how much fun it is to play around with other characters? And I made the surprising discovery that Rick hasn't been there for almost any of this case! AND I've got two 4000+ word chapters in a row. This is what happens when you tell your mother to hide your Sims disk. And the woman hides my Christmas presents so I can't find them. Needless to say, I have yet to ask for the disk back. _

_We're so close to the stuff that's really good! Well, my favourite parts. Is it sad that the first ten chapters are set up for the others? And I'm SO EXCITED to get to the others!_

_Now that I've had my 6-year-old at Christmas moment, I do hope this was another enjoyable chapter. And I'm taking names of those who would like a shot at Juddoo._


	10. Chapter 10

_*As per usual, unbetaed*_

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 10  
_

. . . . .

"I have no idea why I'm here."

Kate resisted the urge to slam her head against the coffee table between her, Rick and Reggie Tsao. Juddoo had continued to refuse to hand over his witness notes and Kate, Sookhold and her boys had spent the day combing through Daniela Vittorini's life in corporeal form. Reggie was the sixth person she and Rick had interviewed, and each one of them had said the same thing: what the hell?

"We need to talk to you about Daniela."

"She's dead."

"She is, Mister Tsao," Rick picked up and Kate was glad she was the only one who would be able to sense the tension in his voice. "We wouldn't be talking to you if she wasn't."

"I already talked to the police," Reggie shot back. "Just talk to the other detective."

"He's being… uncooperative," Kate said tightly.

"So you have to bug me again? That's ridiculous."

"We agree, Mister Tsao. Detective Juddoo talked to you without authorization. This is Detective Beckett's case and he is refusing to pass the information on to her. So we need to hear it again."

"This is insane. And a waste of my time."

"And of mine," Kate snapped. "All I want to do is catch a serial killer responsible for the death of three women. No one seems to be on the same page."

"Hey, Lady, I want Daniela's killer caught."

"Yeah? You're her ex. I hear it was a messy breakup."

"It was," Reggie said, shocked into answering by the growled questions Kate shot at him. "She dumped me for some guy."

"Some guy?" Rick inquired, the calmer of the two and hoping to pass that on to Kate. It wasn't that he wasn't as angry or exasperated with the fact that they had to re-interview everyone associated with Daniela Vittorini. That wasn't true. He was _just_ as pissed but he'd always been of the mentality that one caught more flies with honey than vinegar. Hadn't that been the way he'd managed to sneak behind Kate's walls to begin with?

"A month ago," Reggie confirmed. "Out of the blue. Dani comes over, says 'hey Reg, listen, it's been great, I have a new guy'. Then she… She walked out."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He blew out a breath. "Look, I don't like talking about it, okay? It sucks. It's terrible. It's a pain in the ass. But like I told the other damned cop I _didn't kill her_."

It never ceased to surprise him. Without fail and without being asked, so many people swore they didn't kill the victim. After so many years, he assumed he'd get used to it but it still took him just slightly off guard. "We're not accusing you of killing her."

"Yeah, okay."

Kate ran a hand through her hair, a sign of agitation she very, very rarely showed in front of suspects. "Daniela is the third victim of a serial killer, Reggie. You don't strike me as the type."

He was young, Asian. Probably spent his days studying math equations rather than death. Well honed instincts usually told Kate when there was an inkling of serial killer. Plus, there was no taunting, no utter hatred when she'd introduced herself and she expected both in their perp.

The way he went pale as a ghost when she told him about the serial killer went a pretty long way to convincing her too.

"H-he didn't tell me that."

Rick wasn't surprised. Neither was Kate.

"Mister Tsao, what do you know about Daniela's new boyfriend," Rick asked, trying to steer them back. It wasn't often he had to be the stabilizing force, but he just wanted the damned case solved. He wanted his Kate back and he wanted her relaxed. It was _killing_ him to know she was so stressed that she would show it in front of an interviewee.

"Nothing," Reggie said on a sigh. "When she broke it off with me, she cut me completely out of her life. Ignored my calls. I mean… that wasn't Dani. We were good. We weren't even fighting. She just… broke it off."

"Out of the blue."

"That's what I said," Reggie snapped, getting testy. "Look, I told all of this to the other detective."

Reggie was uncomfortable talking about it, Rick realized. It wasn't so much that he was pissed off that he was being asked the same questions again and again. He was still hurting. Yet, he saw the way Kate stiffened beside him. She was as objective as the next cop, and damned good, no question, but every time there was a reference to something Juddoo was holding back, her temper frayed a little bit more.

"You loved her," Rick said.

"Yeah," Reggie replied on a heavy breath. "Yeah I did. Still do. It's… God, a serial killer? You think it's her new guy? The other detective didn't say anything about a serial killer."

If he referred to the 'other detective' one more time, Kate was going to shoot him. She'd wanted these interviews to go quickly, have them over by the afternoon so she could actually do some real work rather than what had already been done. But each one of their interviewees had asked the same question: why didn't she just get the information from the other cop. Kate had consistently and valiantly resisted telling them it was because Juddoo was just looking for the glory. Instead, she'd forced herself to give the party line: Juddoo had violated procedure as he wasn't the primary investigator. She was, and could they please just answer the question.

"Did you ever go over to her place after the breakup?" Kate inquired, trying with every piece of her self-control to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"The other detective asked the same question."

Kate winced. Reggie missed it.

"I did," he admitted. "More than once. I just… didn't understand, you know? So I wanted an explanation. What had I done? She hadn't given me any clues she was unhappy-"

"Did you see anything?" Kate interrupted. "This new guy?"

"N-no," Reggie replied, startled by her cutting tone. "Um, either she wasn't there or she just didn't answer the door. I haven't talked to her since she broke it off with me and I've left… God, so many messages."

"Nothing? You must have gone by her place when you were together. Was there anything out of the ordinary? Anyone?"

"No, Detective." He was getting defensive.

She was losing her patience. "You saw nothing."

"You're not looking for it," Reggie snapped. "I was there to talk to Dani. Period. The rest of it…" He deflated again.

"Thank you, Mister Tsao," Rick said strategically, standing and deliberately angling his body slightly in front of Kate's. He knew it was a dangerous choice, but he knew if he'd let her continue, they were likely to be facing a hostile witness in less than a minute. "We'll be in touch."

Reggie nodded but turned back at the door. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful, Detective. And I'm not sure I was to the other cop either."

Kate sucked in a deep breath, released it, then stood. Rick refrained from saying anything. He didn't want to be on the bad side of her anger, but he didn't want her losing it either. And from the flashes in her eyes, the tension in her body he knew she was damned close. She stalked out of the room, slamming her portfolio on her desk and picking up her keys.

"Kate, where are you going?"

"I have something to take care of," she snapped back.

Dread and fear settled in Rick's stomach. He jogged after her. "And what might that be?"

She shot him a look. It didn't take a genius to know where she was going. And Rick _really_ didn't like the idea.

"Is this about talking some sense in to him? I hear he doesn't listen to sense."

"No. Not sense. I'm going to _make_ him see that this is my case and he's nothing but a damned… nuisance."

Rick raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on her choice of terminology. He'd expected something more crude considering the context. Kate tapped her foot on the elevator floor the entire way through their ride down to the garage and Rick skipped around her to block the driver's side door. He almost stepped away at her glare, but held his ground.

"Are you sure this is the decision you want to make?" he questioned.

"Richard Alexander Rogers," she said, voice low and deadly. "Get the hell out of my way."

He knew he couldn't stop her. Not really. And he'd much rather do this where he could control it than talk her down only to have her lose it again when he wasn't around. So he darted around the car, just barely managing to slip into the passenger's seat before she revved the engine and squealed out of the parking lot.

"Sweetheart, why don't you wait for the boys to come home? Maybe they've found a lead."

"And maybe our guy has another woman because Juddoo's too much of a bastard to share and we've just wasted a day collecting information he already had," she snapped.

He winced when she turned on the siren, then cupped his hands over his lap at the glare she shot his way.

"And don't 'Sweetheart' me when I'm angry."

She didn't use 'angry' likely. He'd rubbed off on her and she was habitually more conscious about the words she used. So he was quiet until they reached Juddoo's precinct.

"I have to ask again, Kate. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

She sighed in obvious anger and exasperation. "Look, you're either with me or against me. This is out of hand and it needs to be dealt with."

"By you?" Rick asked. "Talk to the Captain."

"I _have_. Juddoo's not listening. Hell, Rick, Sookhold went in to talk to his captain too. He's not even listening to his superior officer."

"And you think he'll listen to you?"

"I don't give a crap anymore. So you're either with me or against me."

He was with her. He always was, even if he didn't completely agree with her decisions.

She climbed out of the car, then leaned down. "The choice is yours."

He sighed. He didn't really have a choice. So he followed her out of the car and jogged to catch up to her in the elevator. "For the record," he said calmly as he stood in front of her. "I think this is a bad idea."

"Yeah? Duly noted and ignored."

Rick sighed, but followed her out of the car. As if he was going to let her do this by herself. If anything, he was there for moral support. And yet, he knew that if it came down to it, he was there to make sure she didn't do anything to ruin her career. The last thing they needed with all of the heat on the case was to have one detective assaulting another.

They were silent in the elevator, and Kate took that time to allow her mind to focus on the irritation. She fought down logic, and pulled on the stress, the frustration, the exhaustion and the clear anger that pounded through her blood.

Long story short, Kate was _livid_.

"Juddoo. A word."

He snorted and ignored her, signing off on a form and sending the young officer scurrying.

"Kate," Rick said quietly, taking her arm gently. He'd chased her into the building the minute he'd realized what was going on. "I don't think-"

"Fine," Kate snapped, ignoring Rick and stomping up right in front of Juddoo's desk. "I get that you're pissed off. I get that you think I stole the case from under your nose-"

"Think?" he questioned, his eyes flashing. "You heard about the Molly Carroll scene and you decided to sabotage it. You knew your captain would take your side."

Kate leaned forward on Juddoo's desk. "I don't give a rat's ass what you think. You're impeding my investigation, you're leaving us to waste precious time by questioning witnesses, family members and people you've already talked to. You're not sharing information and _your_ captain told you to."

"And why should I?" he roared.

"Because it's my damned case!" Kate yelled back. "Your captain, my captain and every other damned officer in New York knows this case was assigned to me. You want to make this personal, make this personal, don't drag three families into the damned crossfire you asshat."

Juddoo opened his mouth to fire back, but Kate was nowhere near finished.

"Do you have _any idea_ what it's like to be in that situation? To think that the detective working your case doesn't give a rats ass? I do and it's not pretty. So do us all a favour and learn what teamwork is."

Juddoo wrinkled his nose. "Oh, poor Detective Beckett. She sympathizes with the victims, knows them, fights for them. Well guess what, I'm not falling for the broken woman act, _Detective_," he replied with distain. "So what if your mother was killed? That doesn't make you an iota better than I am and damned well doesn't mean you get your pick of the cases."

Kate had gone white at the mere mention of her mother, but the red flooded back in quickly. "You have no idea," she said, voice low and _extremely_ dangerous. "What it's like to be in that situation."

"Oh no? No?" He snorted. "Guess what? I can see through you. You put on this act, this face to get the glory, the success. Oh, Detective Beckett has a higher solve rate! She's the best!" He glared. "But you're not."

"Because I can't solve this case?" she shot back. "I do believe that's your fault."

He snorted. "Can't even take responsibility for your own failures, huh? Gotta blame someone else because you're just damned _perfect_." He pushed himself up and into her face, his own smug and relishing the obvious loss of control. "Newsflash, _Detective_, you're not perfect. And your inability to solve this case? Is because you're not as good as you think you are."

She would have hit him if Rick hadn't wrapped a solid arm around her waist and yanked her back.

"Goddamnit let me go!"

Juddoo was laughing heartily at the scene and Kate felt tears flood her eyes. She was frustrated, she was tired, she was angry and she was losing it.

"Kate, calm down," Rick said.

Juddoo's eyes glittered. "I'm going to finish you."

With Herculean strength, Kate reigned in her emotions, though Rick didn't remove his arm from around her waist, just in case. "Try it. Just try it Juddoo. I'll end you."

* * *

The anger hadn't dissipated by the time she and Rick made their way home.

She knew it was bubbling, knew it was bleeding and knew that, despite her best effort, she was likely to take it out on Rick. She hated fighting with him, but Juddoo hadn't gotten it out of her system and she was too damned _tired_ to physically take it out on a punching bag.

"Can you promise me something?"

"No," she responded immediately, aware he followed her into their bedroom. She violently yanked her badge from her belt and removed her belt with angry, jerky movements.

"You didn't even listen."

He sounded tired. For once, she didn't care. She wanted a fight. A good one. Needed it. _Craved it._

"You're going to make me promise to not do anything stupid," she shot back as she violently yanked her fly apart. "You're going to make me promise to stop being so angry, to start being level-headed. You're going to ask me to promise you to remember to eat, to sleep more, to _sacrifice_ because you think I can't take care of myself."

But this wasn't – by far – the first time they'd fought and Rick had developed a few strategies of his own. First and foremost, go right for the punch. "I want you to promise me that when this case is done, immediately after this case is done, you'll request the time off to go up to your dad's."

They'd been talking about visiting her father for _ages_. Jim had come to the Hamptons a few times during Kate's recovery, but it had been a long time since Kate had visited her father. It would be good for her, it would be good for him, and they fully intended on pulling Alexis out of school – and _that _had taken some serious convincing – to come along. They both wanted family time.

"What if I'm on another case?"

He sighed. He knew when she was picking a fight. "There's always going to be other cases, Kate."

"It's my _job_. I don't beg you to come somewhere with me when you're knee deep in writing."

That wasn't a hundred percent true, and even with the grave nature of the discussion, Rick could think of at least half a dozen times where she'd come to beg him back to bed. He didn't voice any of them. "I'm not begging," he said instead. "I'm asking."

"You're not asking," she shot back, just barely managing to avoid ripping buttons as she jerked them open. "Your irritated because we're not getting time together, because I'm putting victims and my job ahead of us. Ahead of you."

Defensiveness kicked in reflexively. "That's not fair and you know that's not true."

"Do I?" She was taking it out on him, angry at him for no other reason than he was _there_. He'd been nothing but supportive, he'd done nothing but help and yet she couldn't seem to reign herself in from tearing into him. And she knew all the right buttons to push. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this. In fact, you were the one that insisted we'd be good together."

"We are good together." He ran a hand through his hair. He should have known better than to bring this up. They were both so cranky. "And I'm not trying to…belittle what you do. I know how much your job means to you and I'm not asking you to… forsake it for a life of sin."

"Actually, you are."

"I'm asking for a _week_," he said, unable to hold the grip on his exasperation. Or his anger. "I'm asking you to take the time to _relax_, to _recharge_, to stop blaming yourself for these murders!"

"You're asking me to potentially abandon a victim and you know it."

"I'm not!"

"You are! You're asking me to stop doing my job!"

"I'm trying to keep you from burning out!"

"You're not my caretaker."

"No," he agreed, "but it comes with the territory of loving you."

"If you loved me, you'd understand."

His eyes flashed. "That was a low blow."

"Was it? Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your fragile ego?"

"Kate-" There was warning in his voice now. She was breaking in.

"I'm sure you can go find a fan to fix it."

"You're flirting with the line."

And she didn't care. "You've been doing a lot of writing lately. Long hours. At home. By yourself and who knows who else, while I'm off catching killers." She cocked her head to the side as she dropped her clothes in the hamper, now down to her underwear. "Tell me, Rick, is writing a new euphemism? Or is it just applicable to writers?"

The implication was obvious to him, if only because his past was and probably always would be a sore spot. She loved him and he loved her and there was no doubt when their minds were clear and thinking properly. But it was still there. It still hung over her head. And she was damned well going to use it.

"I have a book to finish." His voice was low, deadly calm.

"Uh huh."

"Dammit Kate!" He exploded. "I love you! _You!_ Despite the fact that you seem hell-bent on breaking us right now!"

"I'm hell-bent on getting you to see the truth! I'm doing my job and you can't ask me to do anything else."

"I can ask you to take care of yourself! I'm working, I can't be around. You're working and you're working yourself ragged and God dammit, I just want to make sure you're coming home in one piece at the end of the day, that you're not too tired to make some sort of stupid mistake."

"You think I can't do my job?"

"I _never_ said that." Hadn't even implied it, but she was already yanking on a pair of sweats. Then she was back out the door of the bedroom.

"What the hell?"

"I need to get out of here," she snapped, yanking her coat out of the closet and reaching for her oldest pair of sneakers. It was March, it was cold and wet, but she didn't give a damn. "I can't look at you right now."

"You started this! You came home itching for a fight. You _accused me of cheating on you_ and you're going to run away?"

"I'm not running away, I'm clearing my head."

"You're running. You're pissed off, you're cranky and you don't want to deal with me because you know I'm right."

The tears were blurring her vision, even though she had nothing to cry about. She grabbed her keys. "Make up the guest room for me."

Then she was out the door.

The first cold slap of the wind snapped her back.

Oh God.

What had she done?

Still, she took off down the street out of sheer pride. She'd done a hell of a job this time. They'd had fights like this, about her independence, about their relationship, about her job, just after she'd been shot, but never like this. She knew better. He knew better. They both knew better. And yet, he'd been right and she'd known that walking through the door. She'd wanted a fight. She'd picked a fight.

And she'd hurt him.

She wasn't sure it was reversible. Not because she didn't trust in what they shared – she did, despite what she'd told Rick – but because she'd done it so callously. She'd deliberately inflicted wounds that would make him respond, deliberately poked an already angry bear and now she was out in the freezing cold because she'd been an idiot. How much had they been through together? How well did he know her? And yet, she'd completely slammed both of those into the ground, then buried them. She knew better.

He had been busy. She'd peeked at his work when he was in the shower. She knew he was trying to get the final edits through. And yet, he'd still found time to bring her coffee, to call and nag her about lunch and he still took days – like today – to come in and spend the day with her. It was comforting, even on the days that were as stressful as this. She trusted him and she trusted him to make sure she did everything she could to keep her brain sharp.

So why had she jumped down his throat about going to her dad's?

Because she needed the validation. She blamed herself for these murders, regardless of how irrational it was. She was pretty sure this wasn't directly personal, but indirectly personal. It was about her, about the job she did, but because she couldn't find a solid lead, she needed someone she loved and trusted to tell her that it was going to be okay. She was doing her job, she was doing it right and she was doing it the same way she did every other case. She was pouring herself into it. She needed Rick to tell her it was going to be okay, to reassure her that good always won like he'd done a million times before.

Like he'd done long before they even knew each other.

So she'd walk. She'd calm down, she'd give him the space to do the same and then she'd go to him, explain tell him….

God.

She still wasn't willing to promise on the vacation. Despite her very strong, very supportive relationship, Kate knew that when the going got tough, she went to the precinct. Tough cases, hard cases, uncooperative cases… She always ended up back there, even if Rick had tried to calm her down with movies and couch cuddles. And this…

But she'd promise him to see. She'd promise him she'd at least take a weekend.

And then she'd apologize.

. . . . .

It was just after two when he finally heard the door open again. The woman who walked in was much calmer, more like the Kate he recognized. There were still stress lines around her mouth, and the creases that formed around her eyes from exhaustion were still too pronounced for his liking, but she wasn't as angry, didn't seem as distressed. She didn't hesitate to come towards him.

He slid his chair back, opening his arms as she folded herself into his lap. He cuddled her close, tucking her against him, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he thought he could. He hated fighting with her.

"I can't help but think some of this is my fault," she whispered. "Logically, I know better. Logically, I understand that it's distinctly possible he only fixated on me because of you, because of the tabloids, but I can't stop seeing Tim Acheson's face or picturing Linda Jax's family."

He knew this was the peak. This was the moment where it all crashed around them. He pulled her tighter, burying his face in her hair. "I know," he said against her temple. "I know."

"And I didn't mean it," she said, pulling away for a moment, forcing him to loosen his grip. "I don't think you'd ever look for someone else. I trust you, I love you and I know sometimes you have to do your own work. I know Meredith cheated, I know you never would, and I'm_ so sorry_ for even accusing you of it." She shook her head when he opened her mouth. "I know you're going to tell me that it's just stress, that I'm not thinking straight because I'm exhausted about this case, but that's no reason to pick at long-standing wounds. I trust you with _everything_, Rick. Stress shouldn't be an excuse for me to take my frustration out on you by hitting all the points that I know will hurt."

She needed to say that, he could see it, which is why he'd let her finish. "I'm sorry too. I know your job's important and I know you need to do this, I just… I worry. When you get so stressed you don't eat, you don't sleep and that can't help. I don't want to lose you and I don't want you to run yourself to exhaustion. I worry."

"I know," she whispered, pressing her forehead sweetly against his. "Tell me I'm right. Tell me I'm doing my job, that I'm going to win this."

He titled his head, pressing his mouth to hers for a sweet kiss. "You're right. You're the good. And good always wins."

"Make me forget," she murmured, brushing her nose against his as the smile curved her mouth.

He grinned. "Always."

* * *

Jason Juddoo grumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs of the dilapidated apartment building. Really, he was triumphant. Keeping that last case from the bitch detective had given him a head start on all the information. Which included this. It seemed, Daniela was paranoid. She'd written down the name and phone number of her date the night before she was killed and it hadn't taken all that much work to put it all together once Jay'd found the note.

He pounded on the door, not giving a rat's ass if it was an ungodly hour of the morning. "John Smith. NYPD, open up!"

Logically, he knew going without backup was a stupid idea. They didn't know anything about the guy and Jay had every intention of arresting the bastard and getting the glory. Which, really, was the reason he hadn't brought backup to begin with. Sookhold was a little traitor, probably screwing the bitch detective since she'd been so happy to open her damned legs for the writer. He wasn't about to share the glory with _any_ of them. _He_ outsmarted the perp, not her. _He_ beat the guy at his own game.

He didn't for a second consider he'd been deliberately led to the apartment.

But when the door swung open and it was followed almost immediately by a well-placed stab to the lower left of his body, Jay realized that maybe backup would have been a good idea.

* * *

**_Hi again. Author here with one of those long buggers. _**

_A lot of you guys have expressed great interest in the case. First off, thank you. I break my brain trying to ensure that it's following the correct path. If any of you are looking for a highly complex brain exercise, this is it. Second, it is so great to see the way you guys react to each facet of the case and who you guys suspect. I hope this chapter gave you a nice little jolt._

_But here's the thing… the case is a necessity. It's the core of this particular instalment. So I know you guys want the Kate/Rick that's come in past fics, especially because of the way it's been filed, but I won't be doing that just yet. There's a very specific and distinct plan here that required (and will require) each step of this process. I've tried to put some Kate/Rick in here, but because that's really not meant to be even the main focus of the beginning of this, I've focused on the key steps to get to what I really want to explore. _

_So trust me, I hear you. I love writing the Kate/Rick as much as the next Caskett supporter. And I like to think there's going to be some great moments between the two of them and Jim and Alexis. This series is no longer solely about Kate and Rick, but also about their relationships with those around them and to tease some of those out as much as it is about different steps in their relationship. To that end, not every scene is going to have some adorable or even happy Rick/Kate moments. In fact, I totally plan to break Kate's heart. On top of what I just put them through in this chapter.  
_

_If that turns you away from reading the rest of this, that is unfortunate. I value all feedback, even if it is begging me for more Rick and Kate. I really just wanted to make clear that I do hear you. And the romantic shipper in me is _itching_ to write some, but we're not at that point right now. Right now, it's very deliberately about the case. As you can tell, we've taken a pretty interesting turn with Juddoo's death, which means we're one step closer to the good stuff. _

**_Relevant AN:_**

_First off, major apology on the Asian stereotype. Generally, I like to choose against the grain. I meant no offense whatsoever. _

_Second, story that amused me? I wrote most of this completely detached from the emotion. Which is always a terrifying thing when I do it, because I'm the type that feels you should write _with _emotion, if only to make it realistic. But this? Nothing. Completely detached. Just the words on the metaphorical page. And I did it while breaking down an article on how the decisions of Nazi judges undermined the decision of East German and West German judges. I was amused. So I'm sharing that story. _

_Third, I may have to do a name change again, I think. I'm Canadian so I had no idea New England was actually a six-state region. I have a name in my head already but I'm not totally sure I want to change it. If you read this, I would like to know if it matters to you. I mean, it matters to me, but I'm OCD and it's not INTEGRAL to the plot (they're still going somewhere in NE it's just HUGE) so if it's not going to make this experience any different to you, I may wait until this is done, then change it to suit my OCD needs. So let me know? _

_Lastly, (I promise) Juddoo's dead. Major sigh of relief? Huge trepidation? Confusion? Shock? Nothing? I do believe they call that ending a chapter with a bang? Metaphorically, of course._


	11. Chapter 11

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 11  
_

. . . . .

When Javier reached the top of the stairs, Ryan no more than three steps behind, he wasn't surprised to find the plethora of officers. An officer down call was a big deal. The surprise came when he didn't see their intrepid leader anywhere in sight.

"Detectives."

Both men exchanged a glance before heading the Captain's way. His face was grim, standing over a sheet-covered body beside Captain Neece. Lanie was there too and Javier could tell by the barely masked cold fury and despair racing across her face that it wasn't good. "Where's Beckett."

Montgomery and Neece exchanged a look. "She won't be getting the call," Montgomery replied for both of them. Then he leaned down. Javier noticed for the first time the Captain's hands were covered by latex gloves. But when Javier raised an eyebrow at Lanie, she just shook her head.

The second the sheet was pulled away from the body, Javier knew why.

He recognized the face immediately, even as Montgomery pulled the sheet away further to expose the overabundance of stab wounds.

"Shit."

Jason Juddoo was dead.

"There's a knife missing from the block," Montgomery informed them. "CSU found bloody clothes in the corner. Women's clothes."

"Beckett had a massive altercation with him in my bullpen yesterday," Neece said.

"Are you even-" Javier began, knowing that Kate would never do something as stupid as leave bloody clothes behind. She was a _cop_. Both Lanie and Montgomery held out a hand.

Neece sighed. "I'm not, for a second, even considering that your detective could do this. But there's a horde of vultures out there that want a statement and I have to tell them if we have any suspects and right now, we have evidence that says a woman did it. Beckett would know how and they're going to jump all over her, and all over this. I don't like it anymore than you do, but they're going to ask. Jay never made a secret of how much he detested Beckett and he made it clear in all of his meetings with the media. She wasn't exactly subtle about it either. They'd sniff out a cover up."

Which meant Beckett was a suspect, whether they liked it or not.

So Javier turned to the one person who could be their potential saving grace. "Tell me good news."

"I wish I could," Lanie replied and he could see the helplessness surfacing. Beckett was her girl too and Javier knew Lanie didn't like the direction this case was going anymore than they did. She started with the bad news first. "I won't know if it was the beatings that got him until I get him back to the lab, but the official time of death puts it between midnight and two this morning."

"Beckett was home," Ryan spoke up. "Castle'll confirm that."

"He sleeps like the dead," Lanie shot back. "Kate's mentioned it a hundred times."

"Look," Montgomery spoke up. "I'll talk to Beckett. You guys work this damned case. Get me some answers." He stormed off.

Neece met each set of eyes in turn. "I'm going to have to answer some nasty questions out there. I don't want to do it. I don't like the idea of implicating one of our own and from what I hear of Beckett, she has too much integrity to go apeshit on a guy just because he called her some nasty names. She's still going to be a suspect. The news was leaked, it's all over the paper because of the life she chose. So whatever I answer out there has nothing to do with what kind of a detective I think she is. Her close-rate, your close-rate, makes us all look good."

Then he was gone and Lanie, Ryan and Javier were left looking over the dead homicide detective. Javier released a litany of angry swear words.

"She didn't do it," Lanie said. "Not Kate."

"No," Ryan agreed, "but Neece has a point. What if all of the evidence points to her?"

Javier's eyes blazed. "Then let's make sure it doesn't."

* * *

Rick was honestly surprised by the knock that came on the door. It was early, for anyone, and he was pretty sure he didn't have any meetings that happened at ungodly hours. Kate was in the shower, so he went to let none other than Captain Montgomery into the loft.

"Good morning, Captain," he greeted with a chipper smile. "Coffee?"

"No."

That stopped Rick and he turned to face Montgomery. "What is it? What happened?"

"Where's Beckett."

"In the shower," Rick managed. There was a nasty lump forming in his throat. Dread flooded his stomach. "Captain-"

"Get Beckett, Castle."

"Kate," he called, his eyes locked on the other man's.

"I'm _coming_, Rick! I can't have a thirty second shower, I have more hair than you do."

Thankfully, she was fully covered in a robe, but the quick tie she was making stalled when she caught sight of the captain. She wrapped the fabric more firmly around her. "Captain. It's early."

"I'm sorry to barge in."

They both shook their heads.

"Coffee?" Kate offered awkwardly.

"Castle already offered." Mongomery replied. Then he sucked in a deep breath and locked his eyes on Kate's. "Detective, I need you to tell me your whereabouts last night."

Both of them stiffened and the tension in the room jumped.

"At home," Kate said finally. "Here."

"All night?" He kept his eyes on his detective's.

"I went for a walk," Kate replied delicately. There was still residual guilt over some of the things she'd said to Rick burning in the back of her brain. "About eleven."

"By yourself?"

"Captain, what is this about?" Rick spoke up finally.

"Detective Jason Juddoo was found stabbed to death this morning."

Rick exploded. "What the hell!"

With a calm that belied the sudden turmoil of her insides, Kate met her captain's eyes dead on. She knew the questions he was asking, realized they took on an entirely new connotation with that tidbit of information. He was doing the courtesy of doing this off record and doing it himself. But that didn't make her feel any less destroyed by what this could mean for her, for her case, for her job. The knot of fear in her stomach tightened.

"What is this?" Rick roared. "You seriously can't believe Kate had anything to do with this. This is _Kate_."

"Detective Beckett had a very public altercation with Detective Juddoo the day he died. The press has been all over this story, Castle. They're already calling her a dirty cop, taking everything Juddoo fed them over the course of his work with Beckett."

Kate was kind of glad neither man seemed to want her opinion. It was a lot to take in, a lot to absorb. Still, she forced herself to croak out, "Time of death?"

"Between midnight last night and two this morning," Montgomery replied. "At least that's Doctor Parish's on-scene determination. When did you get back home?"

"Two," Kate managed to get out, looking to Rick who, after a minute of obvious consideration, nodded.

"But she wasn't covered in blood and she hadn't changed," Rick said. "She was wearing the same thing she left the house in."

Montgomery dropped the cop behaviour, turning into the father figure Kate was more used to. "Beckett-"

Kate blew out a breath. She wanted, more than anything to believe it wasn't happening.

"I don't have a choice," he said, helplessly. He _hated_ this. Absolutely detested the fact that he was even here, let alone asking the questions he was, implying the things he was. He could only hope that she would understand. He had no choice, but he was on her side. Always. "You fought with him, you went for a walk, by yourself, right in the time of our murder."

"_She wasn't covered in blood_," Rick repeated. "You want to tell me how she got home without getting blood on her clothes? And you _know_ Kate, Captain. There's no way she'd murder someone. No way."

The captain wasn't listening. He was focused on Kate.

She knew what was happening. Her hand started to shake, her brain shut down.

"Detective, you're on suspension until we can definitively prove you weren't responsible. I'm going to need your badge and your gun."

. . . . .

He was livid at Montgomery's demand.

Kate was too stunned to comply and Rick refused.

If Montgomery was going to take away her gun and her shield, he was going to have to pick them up himself. When the captain emerged from their bedroom with the items, he could barely meet their eyes. Kate's were blank. Rick's were red-hot angry. Montgomery hated that he didn't have a choice.

Once Montgomery left, Rick reigned in his temper, going about the mundane chore of breakfast. Kate moved to the couch and curled up in a ball. When he called her for breakfast, she moved silently and mechanically, eating her breakfast on autopilot.

It broke him to see her so automatic.

He was used to a dynamic woman, one that never took his crap, that actually asked him what was wrong when he was too silent, and yet, she was exactly that. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, didn't know how to handle any of it. This was his Kate and he _knew_ there was no way she was capable of killing another human being. At least not beating them to death. Even as angry as she'd been yesterday, Kate had already seen too much death to cause it herself.

Of course, he could understand how that could be spun out of proportion. He could already see the headlines about "Cops Gone Wild" and how her untarnished record was going to be overshadowed by this one story. No one would listen to her, no one would believe her until the evidence vindicated her. Rick had worked with enough cops to know that it was the evidence that spoke. He also knew that the Twelfth wasn't going to sleep until they figured out who did this.

It had to be connected. It just had to. It was way too convenient for the lead detective to have a fight with another officer the same day he died. There had to be someone watching. Their perp had to know. It was the only logical explanation. It was the only explanation he would accept.

She'd gone to his office after breakfast, while he cleaned up, and she sat there, silent as a mouse, on the window seat.

"Kate," he almost whispered as he went to her. "Kate."

She didn't say anything, just shook her head. He reached out, threaded a hand through her hair and held it there. She clenched one in his cotton pants until the knuckles were white. He knew what this meant to her. She'd been stripped of everything she based her identity on.

She curled into him and he wasn't sure if he was glad that she was seeking solace in him – and willing to do so – or if it broke his heart just that little bit more. They sat there for a few more minutes as Kate started to tremble violently. He wanted to hold her as tight as possible, to never let her go, but she pushed at him and she knew where she was going. She'd always done her best, if minimal, crying in the shower. He watched her go, watched her stumble a bit and valiantly refrained from going to help her if only because he had no idea what she needed.

She didn't have a badge, she didn't have a gun.

She had friends. She had Lanie, the boys, Alexis, Martha, her dad…

She had him.

But without her badge and her gun, would that be enough?

The door closed with a soft click and he heard the shower start.

Then he dropped his head into his hands and let his own tears come.

* * *

As a journalist, Rebecca Hall liked to believe she was a good judge of character.

So when the news erupted about Detective Juddoo's death and Detective Beckett's suspension, Rebecca didn't believe it for a second. Maybe she didn't want to believe it, maybe she knew better, but at the end of the day, it was about getting the guy. And Beckett wasn't 'the guy'.

She'd picked up the news from the paper that morning. She felt scooped, but at the same time, she was glad she didn't have to cover it. She genuinely liked Beckett for Pete's sake. To have to try and discredit her would be the hardest thing to do. So Rebecca focused her energies elsewhere.

Like going to the Twelfth to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on.

There were three men standing around a whiteboard of notes and pictures when she stepped off the elevator and she headed their way. "I need to talk to the detectives in charge of the dead cop." She was deliberately bold, deliberately crass. All three men jumped.

"You a witness?" the Hispanic one asked.

Rebecca shook her head. "Rebecca Hall. I wrote the piece _supporting_ Detective Beckett." And she made sure to emphasize which side of the line she stood on.

"How the hell did you get up here?" the blue-eyed one inquired sharply.

"Who gives a shit," she shot back. She wasn't backing down. From the interview, Rebecca had felt like Detective Beckett was one of the true good cops out there and it pissed her off she was being muddied in the media. "She's being slaughtered."

"We know," came the deep voice of the tallest one. "Detective Sookhold."

"Juddoo's partner," Rebecca supplied. She fixed her eyes on the other two. "Look, I don't have information. If I do, I damned well wouldn't be holding back on you. What I do have is connections you don't."

The other detectives stayed silent and merely raised an eyebrow each.

"We're listening," Sookhold spoke for them all.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. "This stabbing… it's a cop. From the look of your board there, he doesn't look connected. Fine. But then what happens to the other cases? What happens to Molly? They get shoved aside because we have to find the cop-killer first. So while you're busy with trying to disprove Beckett's the killer, the serial guy is busy planning his next move. Less pressure to catch the serial killer now."

Sookhold's eyes sparked, and a little smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "You're sharp," he told her.

"But it's only a 'theory'," she spat. "So I'm your link to the outside world. She didn't do it and I want to make sure the public gets the damned truth instead of what Juddoo fed them."

Sookhold winced and Rebecca could understand that. But Beckett was one of theirs, and if she was going to break through the proverbial blue wall, she was going to have to do it by showing them that it wasn't about fluff. It wasn't about a promotion. And to do that, she was going to have to have to make them think Juddoo was the scum of the earth. Which, Rebecca acknowledged, he could have been and maybe if she managed to actually get in on this she could humanize him later.

For now, this was about Beckett as much as it was the story. Because Rebecca had left her interview with Beckett believing that the other woman had nothing but Molly on her mind. Molly and her other victims, but Molly nonetheless. And she'd left that interview believing that Beckett was the best detective for the job. So it was a blow to her faith to know that Beckett had been removed from the case, and it pissed her off to know the detective had been temporarily suspended from the force.

What kind of message did that send?

"Hall, you said?" the blue-eyed detective asked, a little warmer than his voice had been earlier.

"Rebecca Hall."

He exchanged a look with the Hispanic man. "What kind of connections?"

* * *

_Biggest thanks to Gayle for the run-through. You are an absolute godsend and I'm blessed to have you hanging around.  
_

_Second, this scene, this chapter, this whole suspension… This is what the whole story centers on. I believe it was Ariel119 who asked me at the beginning what the summary meant. Well, hon, I hope you got your answer!_

_Now I get to really play. Much more emotion on it's way now that we've got most of the important case stuff out of the way. Is anyone else excited? Is it sad that I feel bad that this chapter is only 2900 words?  
_


	12. Chapter 12

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 12  
_

. . . . .

** FLASHBACK**

_Katherine Beckett was a right mess. _

_She'd spent three years looking into her mother's case. Three. Damned. Years. And she had nothing to show for it. _

_Now, she was on forced vacation. It felt like a punishment, for trying too hard, even if the logical part of her brain knew that it wasn't. She was angry. And that in itself was probably an understatement. So she was looking over the files she did have, the ones she'd copied to take home. Going over and over and over…_

_Then the pages started getting blurry. _

_The knock on the door startled her. When she opened it, a diminutive black woman stood there, loaded down in bags. _

"_Let a girl in," she ordered. _

_Kate stepped back, unsure of what else to do. She and Lanie Parish had hit it off well since their first case together – "Us girls gotta stick together in this boyland," Lanie had told her – and they'd even had lunch together a few times. But this…? Kate didn't realize they were close enough for this kind of drop-by._

"_Doctor Parish," she finally greeted. _

"_Lanie," the doctor scolded. She dropped the bags on Kate's small island, then turned to look at the other woman. There was sympathy shining in the brown depths, but a hard stubbornness as well. "Scuttlebutt says you got booted."_

"_I'm on vacation," Kate replied. _

"_Uh huh. And I'm due to run for president next year. Figure I can buddy-buddy up to that Clinton guy."_

_Kate choked on a laugh. _

"_Look. I'm a doctor, right? I've done the training. Yeah, I took the ME route, but I still know what I'm doin' when it comes to the body. So I can tell you're not sleepin', you're not eating' and quite frankly, Honey, you need to. You don't have the body type that can take losing much more weight." So she dove into the bags on Kate's counter, pulling out Tupperware after Tupperware. _

"_What is this?"_

"_This is what they call food. Not that vending machine crap and nothin' like the damned takeout you detectives eat like candy. Real food."_

_Kate stepped closer despite herself. "You cook?"_

"_Ha! No," Lanie answered with a snort of amusement. "Called in a favour."_

_The detective looked skeptically at the food. _

"_Oh don't look so afraid. It's my Gran. She was a stay-at-home. Cooks like crazy."_

"_Doctor Parish-"_

"_Lanie."_

_Kate sighed. "Lanie." She paused. "Why?"_

_Lanie stepped away from the food and towards Kate, reaching out for her. Kate flinched. "I asked some questions. Pointed ones. And I'm not an idiot." She glanced over at Kate's covered kitchen table and both women knew nothing else needed to be said. "Look, maybe I'm not the right person to talk to. Honestly? Professional's probably better, but…"_

_Lanie sucked in a breath, then continued. "I've been thorough it, okay? My family… we've been through it. Losin' someone's rough. I can only imagine how much harder it is when that someone is a parent or a loved one. I can see why you'd fight for it." She squeezed Kate's hands. "I think we both know you're losin' it. You just don't wanna admit it. Which is… fine. But it ain't good, Girl. You gotta take care of yourself, because a time will come when that case is gonna open up again, and if you're in this place it's just gonna to tear you down." She offered a deceptively nonchalant shrug. "And what are you gonna do when you're in no place to work it?"_

_Kate looked shocked. "Are you in my head?"_

_Lanie laughed, though she was pretty sure that wasn't actually the right response. "Nah. I've just been where you are, without the murder part." She let go of Kate's hands and moved to the counter. "And you know what? I like to think we're friends. Friends are there for each other. Even if it's givin' each other a solid kick in the ass."_

_When Kate didn't volley a snippy retort back at her, Lanie turned. The woman stood, her arms wrapped around her middle, head down and shoulders shaking. _

"_Honey," she said softly, leaving the Tupperware and heading her way. She wrapped her arms around the detective, despite the 'do-not-touch' she was broadcasting and Kate lost it. She started to sob, her body shaking in earnest and Lanie just held on. Her entire understanding of Detective Beckett was shifting right in front of her eyes. _

_Even the strongest fell. _

_Unfortunately, they often also fell harder. _

* * *

Lanie was over that night, knocking on the door just as he'd forcibly pulled Kate from the freezing water of the shower. He'd expected her, expected the news to travel quickly. Lanie's face was grim and set, her eyes blazing with the emotions she didn't show on her face. He cocked his head towards the door to his left and she nodded, sliding off the flats she wore. He headed for his study, where he could work, could re-write the scene, could come up with a happy ending.

Lanie stopped him, her hand on the doorknob. "Rick."

It was his first name that had him spinning, more so than the fact that Lanie had called for him. "Lanie."

Lanie looked down at the floor, then came towards him, stopping in front of where he stood. She looked up at him, her eyes swimming, but grim and serious. "There aren't many people who know what this is going to mean to our girl," she said. "Juddoo was protective of his case, and now she's been taken off of hers. And it is _hers_ now."

Rick understood. It involved Kate. The guy was after her in a way they had yet to figure out. She felt responsible for the people he'd killed, and responsible to their families to be the one to find the answers.

"Kate and I have been friends a long time," Lanie spoke again, her voice quiet and, for the first time since Rick had known her, small. "A _long_ time. We were both pretty green when we met on a case." She smiled affectionately at the memory. Then her face went serious again. "I was with her when she fell apart around her mom's case."

That, more than anything, told Rick how deep this went. Things were only compared to Johanna Beckett's death when they were dire.

Lanie glanced at the door beside his office, then back at the man she knew her best friend loved with every piece of her. Unlike when her mother's case almost destroyed her, she had someone, she had multiple someones, who would be there, every step of the way. Even now, she knew Montgomery had stepped out of his Captain's roll to take over the case, knew Javier and Ryan were hard at work, combing through every inch of their case file, and everything they could get their hands on in response to Detective Juddoo's death. Everyone was working to get Kate back, and even if it wasn't apparent to her now, Lanie knew, in time, Kate would see that.

"This won't be easy," she said quietly. "She's going to fight us. All of us."

He knew that. Of course Rick knew that. He knew Kate. "I know," he said, promises in his eyes, promises to protect Kate, to watch over her, to make sure this didn't end her. "We'll fight back."

Lanie's smile was small, tight and a little bit vicious. "Damn right we will." She paused though, before opening the bedroom door.

"Hey Lanie?"

She looked up.

He stood, hands in his pockets, and even from across the loft he could see the intensity of the emotions in his face. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."

When it came to entering the bedroom, Lanie didn't bother to knock. She knew Kate. Maybe not as well as Rick, but she knew Kate the way any woman knows her best friend. So she knew that she could knock until she was blue in the face and she'd be damned lucky to get anything out of Kate. Sure enough, Lanie opened the door to find Kate's form curled up on the bed.

"Hey Girl." She didn't say it to get acknowledgement, merely to let the detective know she was there. So she didn't wait, just moved around the bed, taking her friend in. Thankfully, Kate had thought to put on a fuzzy terrycloth robe before curling up on the comforter. Still, the woman who more often than not dominated the precinct certainly didn't look like she could do much more than lift a feather. Her dripping hair was soaking the pillow beneath her and Lanie found herself wondering if the woman had even dried herself off. She held in a sigh. She'd seen this before. Once. "Up."

"Lanie."

"Your wet hair can't be comfortable. Come on." Lanie tugged her best friend up, alarmed at how automatically she moved. She tugged her to the vanity Kate had brought with her when she moved in before heading back to the bathroom to grab Kate's hairdryer. When she returned, she picked up the brush and set about drying her friend's hair. Or she tried. When the tremors started, Lanie simply braided the strands and stroked her hand over Kate's head.

Without a word, the detective turned on the stool and buried her face in Lanie's stomach. Lanie held on, her heart breaking for the obvious trauma Kate was experiencing. Lanie hugged the broken woman, absently rubbing a hand over her shoulders. It was tough to be the best friend, she could only imagine what it felt like to be the lover.

Eventually, Kate looked up with red eyes, tear tracks down her cheeks. "Who am I, Lanie?"

The ME cupped her best friend's face. "You're Kate Beckett."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're smart, you're savvy, you're fiercely independent, even though you're head over heels for Richard Castle." She smiled when Kate's lips twitched. "But that's okay, because it's so obvious he can't look anywhere else when you're in a room." She sobered again, just slightly. "You're the best friend a girl could ask for. You're compassionate, you listen without judgment and you're passionate about what you believe in."

"I thought I knew what that was."

"Girl, listen to me." Lanie waited until she did, until Kate's eyes locked on hers. "Just because you don't have a badge and gun doesn't mean you've changed. You still believe in justice, you still believe in truth, and that's good. Because you're going to need that when we catch this guy."

"If."

"Nuh uh. You're not playin' that game with me," Lanie said sternly. "We're already on it. We've already started. And you've got some serious support in weird places, Honey."

Despite the pain, the hurt, the confusion, the tears and the headache she was bound to have, Kate managed to shoot Lanie a confused look.

"Rebecca Hall."

Kate sighed. "What about her?"

"She's on your side. All the way. She's willing to give us a hand in solving this case."

"She's not a cop."

Lanie saw the moment 'neither am I' went through Kate's head. "Look. You'll be back before you know it."

"And if I'm not."

"You will be."

The tears flooded Kate's eyes again. "I wish I was as sure as you are."

Lanie just hugged her again, letting her sob the pain away.

. . . . .

Lanie knocked, then poked her head into the office. "She's all cried out." The gratitude was in her eyes, thanking him for letting her be there. She knew it couldn't have been easy for him to just step back and let someone else take care of Kate, but she appreciated that he did.

"Thanks Lanie."

"Always." She glanced back at the door she'd closed behind her. "Don't let her go."

"I don't plan on it." He stood then seemed to lose his train of thought and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do with her when she's like this."

Lanie cocked her head to the side, watching him, considering him. "You love her," she finally settled on. "You show her that her badge is just a piece of her, not all of her. Nothing's changed except for that piece and that piece doesn't change what you think of her."

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words, then walked Lanie to the door, thanking her again and hugging her tight. "Keep us in the loop."

"You know it."

He waited until she was on the elevator, then closed the front door, locking it behind him. He sucked in a deep breath. This was painful. More painful than the fight Kate and Alexis had had during the summer. More painful than seeing her lying half-dead in a hospital bed. He didn't know how to deal with this. This was an emotional wound, not a physical one. She'd had everything stripped from her. _Everything_.

Kate was curled on her side, her back facing the door. He sighed. Her breathing was uneven, so she was awake and he closed the door before climbing in behind her. She stayed limp as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you," he said into her hair, unsure of what else he could say, Lanie's words still ringing in his ears. Love her, she'd said. "I love you."

It was enough to prompt Kate into turning over. She didn't look at him, but wrapped herself around him, taking the comfort he offered without question, without words. He pulled her tighter, whispering in her ear over and over.

"I love you, I love you, I love you…"

* * *

Lanie stormed back into the precinct with purpose. "What do we have?"

Javier sighed as he took her in. "Cari, we don't even know if they're connected."

She shot him a glare. "Don't you bullshit me Javier Esposito," she said, voice low and dangerous. "We know it's connected. We know Juddoo is another victim. So what if the guy's framing Kate, we start looking at this as different cases we're going to miss the connection."

"It does make an assumption," Sookhold offered carefully. He'd wanted to work the case of his dead partner, despite their differences. Juddoo was still his partner. He was an asshole, but his partner. Nevertheless he, like the Twelfth, didn't believe Kate was involved. He'd worked with her for a month now. She had too much self-respect and integrity to kill. Could she do it? He had no doubt. Theoretically, she had the capability. Would she? No. And he knew that with much more certainty than he knew her capability. If she wanted to get Juddoo off the case, she would have done it by solving it, not by killing him.

Lanie whirled on him. "You don't know our girl. You don't know what she's been through. You don't know what this means to her. So with all due respect? Shut it."

"With all due respect, Doc, I don't think she's responsible," Sookhold responded, unsurprised by the blatant show of loyalty. Kate Beckett was more than a friend to the members of the NYPD crowded around her meticulous murder board. "But there was no note, she was angry, there was a knife missing from the block and bloody clothes. I can see how someone could believe it. We have to find the evidence to prove she wasn't there. Until we do that, we have to look at her as a viable suspect."

Javier gently grasped Lanie's hands, pulling them from her hips. "She's your girl. She's _our_ girl, but Sookhold's right. We've got nothin'."

Ryan shifted through the papers in front of him. "So we get out there. We start canvassing, we do the leg work. We talk to Beckett, see if she remembers the route she took, if she talked to anyone." He looked from Lanie and Esposito to Sookhold, the only wildcard. "You in, Sookhold?"

They were all relieved when the other detective didn't think twice. "Yeah. I'm in."

* * *

_Just in case, only the italics is the flashback. Just to cover my own butt._

_I'm going to write a book. Kavi's Guide to Surviving the Week from Hell. I broke my back and my brain writing my final papers this semester. They almost beat me, but I succeeded! So I'm going to write a book. With anecdotes. So the stuff you do to cope with death-by-education, send them my way. It'll be epic. And I'm only half kidding. It'll be a series. Along with Kavi's Guide to Creating a Full Dishwasher Load. Long story. _

_So now that I've proven I'm probably delusional and insane, I was shocked at how much of this was done! So I hope it makes sense and that you've enjoyed yourselves. It's not my favourite chapter, because we're in a bit of a lull until we get Kate and Rick out of NYC, but there are a few things that need to be taken care of before we get to that point. So be patient with me, as usual. I promise (or more appropriately, I think) it'll be worth it in the end._

_Thanks!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Typos? 100% mine. Deal with it. As my roommate says kthxbye._

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 13  
_

. . . . .

The last person Rick wanted dragging him out of bed was Captain Roy Montgomery. Despite knowing better, Rick blamed the man for Kate's current emotional upheaval. Had it been IAB who had removed Kate's badge, Rick may have felt differently, but he wondered if Roy had caught the symbolism. Roy was like a father to Kate, one of her main support structures in the NYPD whether the Captain realized it or not. He wasn't surprised that the man looked resigned when Rick opened the door flanked by Ryan, Esposito and Sookhold.

"Well if this isn't a happy little family." His eyes were cold, hard, he knew it, but the boys were about to find out just how far he was willing to go to protect Kate. To help her.

"Cut the crap, Castle," Esposito snapped.

Rick's eyebrow shot up. "My crap? Do you have any idea what you've done to your _friend_?"

"Look," Ryan stepped in, playing peacemaker. Though Irish, Esposito's temper had always been more volatile than his. "We don't want to make trouble, an we don't want to fight with you. We need to talk to Beckett."

Rick knew what this trip was for in an instant. "It can wait. She doesn't have representation here." And she wasn't ready. There was no way she was ready. Good Lord, though he was pretty sure she didn't know it, he'd been up half the night with her. She hadn't slept. From the look on Ryan's face, he didn't need to tell them that.

"The sooner we get this done the more credible she looks. The evidence is fresh, Castle. You know how this works."

"Oh, I do. When it's not one of your own. How quickly the tables have turned."

"Rick, enough."

He spun around to find Kate in the doorway to his office. She looked worn down, haggard, exhausted and despite that, heartbreakingly beautiful. He didn't want to put her through this.

"This is their job," she said quietly. "This is what they need to do."

"Right now?" he shot back, anger still simmering.

"Ryan's right," she answered quietly and Rick saw Esposito shiver out of the corner of his eye. He got a sick sense of pleasure from it. Now maybe they'd understand exactly what they'd done to this woman. "The evidence is fresh. What happened is clear in my head, in yours, in every other witness'." She took in the men in front of her. "Where's IAB?"

"On their way," Esposito replied, meeting Kate's eyes only. A part of him recognized what Castle had done, what he was still doing. He would protect Kate. If Esposito had any doubt, it was silenced now.

A glow lit momentarily in Kate's eyes. They'd come before IAB. These were her friends, her family. But as quickly as it had come, it disappeared. Family or not, she wasn't a part of them right now. They still had a job to do and that meant interviewing her as a suspect. "Come on in. Rick? Coffee?"

Rick looked between her and the boys before finally stepping back. He made a show of his reluctance to do so. They hadn't shown him they were there as friends, only that they were there as cops. He didn't want them anywhere near Kate unless they were here to show her support.

"Look, Beckett-" Ryan began, but Kate held up a hand.

"Don't. Don't... screw up this investigation, okay? Just... do your job," she said. She sat in the armchair Rick usually claimed for himself, curling her legs beneath her. She didn't have to be Detective Beckett for these men. She wasn't Detective Beckett anymore.

But, she'd forgotten something. Much like Rick, Esposito and Ryan would do anything in their power to be there for her in the only way they knew how. Sure, she was their boss, sure she could kick their asses - probably at the same time too - but that didn't change how they looked at her. She could handle herself, but she was still as good as their sister. And the backgrounds of both of the detectives kicked in when she was down or in pain, whether she wanted them to or not. So Esposito leaned forward.

"Detective Juddoo was found yesterday morning in an apartment registered to John Smith."

The spark lit in Kate's eyes again, then fell away. John Smith gave them nothing to go on.

"Lanie's prelim tells us he'd been stabbed upwards of thirteen times. She'll have the exact number when she finishes the autopsy later this morning." He'd deliberately used Lanie's first name, yet Kate didn't respond. He'd been expecting a teasing quip, something to let him know that the Beckett he was used to was in there somewhere. But he got nothing in return.

And though Sookhold recognized what Esposito was trying to do, he stepped in. "We can't talk about this until IAB gets here." When Kate's eyes shot to his, he didn't bother to hide the regret. He didn't want her to believe he was against her, but he respected how much doing this investigation right meant to her. They were already braking rules by being there in the first place, but Montgomery had been insistent. And Sookhold had learned that when it came to Beckett, no one defended her better than Ryan and Esposito. Well, except maybe the man who settled a tray of coffee on the small table in front of them. So he wasn't surprised when each man turned a glare on him. He kept his eyes focused on Beckett.

The understanding was there in a flash and Sookhold felt his respect for her grow. Here she was, no where near the cop that had almost beaten him on the sparring mat, screwed by a system she needed to believe in - and yeah, he'd looked into her mother's case after Juddoo had mentioned it - and yet she wasn't yelling or screaming. She wasn't swearing, attacking, hiding or crying. Just sitting there, numbly, like she knew and understood she had to do this.

When the knock came on the door, the detectives all exchanged a look. But it was Sookhold who went to answer it.

Rick took the opportunity to crouch in front of Kate. "You don't have to do this, Sweetheart."

She reached out for his cheek, though her eyes stayed dull and lifeless. "I do. You know I do."

He smiled despite the seriousness of the moment. "You don't have to do it now," he amended. "This can wait."

"If we wait, we look guilty," she replied, unconsciously using the plural pronoun.

Rick wanted to shake his head. Leave it to his detective to be a cop despite the fact her symbols weren't there. He laid a hand on her thigh and squeezed her hand. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

And that intimate moment was exactly what Lieutenant Rita Lacrosse stepped into. It didn't take her long to absorb the scene, nor did it take her long to realize that she was in a lion's den. She'd heard about these people, about this unconventional team. Hell, she'd heard all about Detective Beckett and her writer-slash-partner-slash-lover. But to see such an intimate moment, to experience the solidarity she saw in the eyes of the men seated around her was incredibly disconcerting.

"Detectives, Captain." She looked to Castle, unsure of what to call him. "Sir."

Rick's eyebrow went up as he stood, but that was the only acknowledgement she received.

"Lieutenant Lacrosse, IAB." She didn't badge them. There was no reason to.

Silence descended. She was surprised that the dull-looking Beckett was the one to speak. "Back off, guys."

And then she got another shock. Detectives Ryan and Esposito leaned back against the couch cushions like they belonged their. The captain rose to get her a chair from the dining room. And Castle settled on the arm of Beckett's chair. Lacrosse's respect for the detective rose with those few simple movements. This was a woman who had made it in a male dominated world. She quite obviously not only commanded the respect and admiration of the men around her, but she'd earned it as well. So though she'd planned to go on the offensive with this particular interrogation, Lacrosse changed her mind. She stepped around the chair the captain had brought, holding out a hand to Beckett.

"I've heard a lot about you, Detective. I wish we could have met under different circumstances."

The smile she received in return was tight and she returned it with one of her own. There was no reason to make enemies here. It seemed Beckett knew what needed to be done, and Lacrosse was, admittedly, thankful for the cooperation. So she catered to her audience.

"We can do this as a statement or like question-answer period?" she asked, pulling out her recorder.

Beckett blinked. The offer was unexpected. "Um, statement."

Lacrosse nodded and turned on the recorder. She stated all of the relevant information – her name, the interview, the subject – then nodded to Beckett. "Whenever you're ready."

Kate reached out for Rick's hand, grasping it tightly. Rick wrapped both of his hands around hers in a show of support. They weren't usually ones for public displays but this kind of situation would always be an exception. The detectives looked on, their own show of support in the distrust in their eyes.

"I didn't meet Detective Juddoo until I was called to the Carroll homicide," Kate began slowly. "There was a note on the victim addressed to me, and one of the officers on scene notified dispatch. When I arrived, Doctor Parish and Detectives Ryan and Esposito were there as well." She focused her eyes on Rick's hands, the warmth they infused into her skin. "Detective Juddoo was less than polite when he greeted me."

Detectives Ryan and Esposito were both nodding with Kate's account. They'd been there. They'd seen it.

"From then on… it was an uphill battle. Captains Neece and Montgomery agreed I was going to run point, be the lead on the case. Juddoo… lost it, I guess." She ran her free hand through her hair. Then met Lacrosse's eyes head on. "I didn't encourage him. I barely spoke to him. Until he screwed with my investigation."

Beckett looked away again, and Lacrosse was honestly surprised she had to prompt the other woman. "And?"

"He withheld evidence. A whole other damn homicide that was connected. He was working it on his own. Detective Sookhold brought it to our attention, as did Rebecca Hall."

"She wrote an article about you," Lacrosse stated.

Kate nodded. "She did. At my request. Someone was playing the media." She deliberately stopped herself from naming names. Their information wasn't exact and the last thing she wanted was to look like she was playing the blame game. She didn't like that she'd lost her badge, but she wasn't numb enough not to realize screwing up now could mean never getting it back. "It was my way of responding."

"And then?"

Kate squeezed Rick's hand, sure she was going to break fingers. Rick just squeezed back. He was there for her, thick and thin.

"After interviewing Reggie Tsao on the Daniela Vittorini homicide, Rick and I went to Juddoo's precinct." She found herself sucking in a deep breath. This situation was totally out of her control. Completely. And she was going to lose it. She _hated_ being this vulnerable but she couldn't get a handle on herself to save her life.

"We had words," Kate said finally. "Angry words." She paused again, then plowed on, realizing that if she didn't, she was going to get slammed for it later. "I wanted to hit him. I almost did. We traded insults, threats and I left him alive. Rick and I came home, we had a fight, I left around…." She tilted her head up to meet Rick's gaze. "Eleven?"

Rick nodded. "You were gone a while." He pondered for a moment, doing the calculation in his head. "I think you got in around two." Part of him wished he could lie for her, but he knew better. She'd kill him. The system had screwed her, but it was also ingrained in her. She'd follow it until her dying day because she had invested so much of herself in it.

"I went… around the neighbourhood," Kate picked up. "I just… I kept looping." She met Lacrosse's eyes for the first time since the interview started. "I don't think I saw anyone. I'm sure I didn't speak to anyone."

"That implicates you. Three hours is plenty of time to get to Manhattan and back."

Kate's eyes closed, then opened again, harder, duller. "The last time I saw Detective Juddoo was in his precinct. That's the truth, Lieutenant."

The rest of the interview was standard. Lacrosse asked for details, Kate gave them. Eventually, the woman clicked off the recorder. "Off the record."

A spark of surprise flashed in Kate's eyes, but she nodded.

"You're a damned good cop, Detective," the lieutenant said. "You've found yourself a damned good team and you have a spotless record to show for it." She tugged on the end of the braid tumbling over her shoulder. "This sucks."

Kate laughed without humour or amusement. "Try being on this side."

In truth, it had been a surreal experience that Kate was not looking to repeat any time soon and though she wanted to drop her head into her hands, she resisted.

"That's all I need," Lacrosse continued, siding the recorder back in her purse. She stood and took them all in. Her eyes settled on Beckett again. She wanted to say something that was at least sort of inspirational, something that let the detective know that thee was a solidarity between them. Lacrosse was not immune to the negativity that surrounded IAB. She didn't want the detective to think that she was on some sort of crusade, that she believed what Juddoo had said. Close rates spoke for themselves and there was no way Beckett could have earned the respect she had from the people around her if she'd done most of her work on her back.

Then, the other woman nodded. It was slight enough that Lacrosse could ignore it if she wanted, but an acknowledgement at the same time. "Do you have a number I can reach you?"

"Through our lawyers," Rick answered immediately.

Kate didn't contradict him and Lacrosse realized it was a way she was letting him protect her. Suddenly, the partnership, the relationship, made more sense. There was a give and take that most people didn't see. She nodded. "Thank you."

Detectives Ryan and Esposito stood with her.

"We'll walk you out," the Irishman said, and Lacrosse didn't miss the note of steel in his voice.

When the door closed, all eyes turned to Kate. She swallowed thickly, feeling the overwhelming pressure again. With a sheer force of will she hadn't realized she possessed, she'd managed to stay detached through the IAB interview. Now, however, she could feel pieces of the armour chipping away. She detangled her hand from Rick's and stood.

"Excuse me."

The minute the bedroom door closed, Rick swung on Montgomery. "I'm taking her away."

"She won't go for it," Montgomery replied, running a hand over his head. "You know her."

"So do you," Rick shot back. "She needs to get away, Roy. She needs to step away from this case. I won't let it eat her alive. We're not going far."

"You have something planned." The captain was suspicious.

"We've been planning to go to Boston. Her dad's family has a place there." Rick rolled his eyes, mostly out of exasperation. "Come on, you saw her. She was never meant for this kind of press coverage, let alone…." He rubbed his face. "We're just going to her dad's. We're not going overseas, we're not going far at all. We'll be there if you need us."

"There's going to be talk."

"She's going to break," Rick snapped.

The anguish was obvious in his eyes and Montgomery could see it. His detective wasn't the only one about to break. Montgomery just barely resisted the urge to close his eyes briefly. "I can't protect you if you disappear."

"We're going to _Boston_," Rick repeated, his own irritation, exasperation and annoyance clear as day. "I didn't stop you guys from coming in here and letting IAB interview her, and make no mistake, I could have. She _needs_ this."

Montgomery wasn't going to argue with that. He was, in fact, inclined to agree. "She's a suspect."

Rick's eyes turned cold as he laughed mirthlessly. "I'm not likely to forget that any time soon."

Esposito poked his head in, eyes dead and cold. "Lanie called. She's got the autopsy results."

Montgomery moved swiftly. Sookhold held back a moment.

"You don't know me," he said, "so when I tell you this you don't get a choice. We're going to get this guy. Juddoo was my partner, but she's ten times the cop he was. She's a testament to the work we do and don't, for a second, think I don't see that. I've been on the street with her." He paused. "So we're going to get this guy. For Juddoo, because yeah, he was a jackass, but he didn't deserve to die like that. And for Beckett, for taking away a cop victims have faith in."

By the time Rick surfaced from his shock, the men were gone. But as he looked at the closed bedroom door, aware of the fight he was about to pick, there was a piece of him that couldn't help but believe that maybe, just maybe, given time, faith and patience, everything would work out just fine.

* * *

Kate was numb.

She'd put on a brave face for IAB – mostly because she couldn't do anything else – and then fallen apart in the shower. Now… now she felt nothing. She'd boxed it all up, safe and sound, so she didn't have to think about it, didn't have to do anything about it. Nothing.

Yet, she shouldn't have been surprised to find Rick in the bedroom. What was a surprise, however, were the two suitcases on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

God, even her voice sounded dull.

"Packing," he responded, shuffling through their dresser and extricating a pile of carefully counted boxers. "We're going away."

"I'm sorry?" Kate blinked. "We're what?"

"Going away," he repeated. "To Boston."

"Why?"

"Because we're not staying in New York. Not with everything that's going on."

Kate gaped like a fish out of water for a few moments, then exploded. "What the hell, Rick!"

From his perspective, he didn't mind the explosion so much. After she'd cried herself to sleep, he hadn't been able to follow and had done some research. He knew what was coming next. In fact, he was hoping for it. He slid the boxers into one of the pockets of the suitcase, then faced her, head on. "We're going to Boston. Your dad will be there, I'll call Alexis once we've packed. We're going to get away from this insanity."

"I'm not going to _run_."

"It's not running," he argued. "It's stepping back."

"It's _running_." She could feel the anger boiling up. "Do you have any idea what this'll do for my reputation?"

"What reputation?" He was picking a fight. Another one. And he was going to regret each one of the next few moments. "You don't have a job right now, Kate."

The tears pooled in her eyes, fast and hot. And here she'd thought she'd cried herself out. "That was cruel."

"It's the truth. And, honestly? Maybe getting away will help us clear our heads. We're going to have to start thinking about what you're going to do now."

"I… I…"

"Don't want to face this? Yeah. I gathered that. It's your MO. So we're going to get away so you don't have to face it, so we can both step away and figure out what the hell we're going to do."

"It sounds like you already have."

"Oh please. Give me some credit," he snapped.

"I'm trying," she retorted, her hands going to her hips.

He was stupidly glad to see the offensive posture again. It was a piece, if only a little one, of his Kate. "Trying to what, exactly? Because all you've done since Montgomery stopped in yesterday is mope about."

"They took my badge!" she exclaimed.

"So what?" He roared back.

"So my badge is _everything_!"

Since it was the reaction he was looking for, he didn't bother getting offended at the fact that her words implied the badge meant more than they did. "It's a piece of shiny metal."

"You bastard! You know what my job means to me! You know how important it is!"

"Then why aren't you doing it?"

"Because I _can't_!"

"You can't do your job?"

"Damn it, Rick! Now is not the time to be talking me in your circles."

"_I'm_ talking in circles?" He was trying to back her into a corner.

"They took my badge away. They took my gun away. They took away everything that gives me purpose; that makes me who I am. How can you not see that?"

When the tears started flowing, he couldn't hold the act any more. "I do see that," he replied, his entire face crumpling with hers. "Of course I see it. That's why we need to go away. You need a chance to separate yourself from this, to see that you make the job, not the other way around. And I can't just sit here and let you mope any more. The press is out there, _he's_ out there, and so long as you're here, it's going to be too fresh and too raw." Rick held out his hands. She would have to come to him now that he'd lashed out at her. "I want to give you the chance to see who you are to the people that matter, and that isn't Detective Beckett, NYPD. It's something else entirely. But here, you won't listen to me. You won't listen to anyone because I know this city reminds you of everything you lost, everything you fought to gain back, and everything that was just stripped away from you."

Kate eyed him, slowly, carefully. This Jekyll and Hyde routine was doing a number on her.

"Get angry, Kate. Get emotional, get upset, but don't for a minute believe that being a cop is all you are."

"I want to believe you," she finally said.

"I don't lie to you."

"I don't want to run, Rick."

"We're not running," he repeated. "We're getting some perspective. Spending time with family. Reorganizing our priorities."

Finally, and with a sigh, she placed her hands in his. "It still feels like running."

He smiled into her hair as he pulled her close, hugging her to his chest like his life depended on her. Sometimes he was pretty sure it truly did. They stood like that for a moment, then Rick bent down, pressing his temple against hers. "I love you. I don't like seeing you hurting."

"You just picked a fight with me." There was a spark of true Kate in her murmured words.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"I know," she said after a moment. "I think I'll appreciate it."

"I won't hold my breath."

Kate pressed her mouth to his. "Probably a good idea."

Then, knowing she'd had her quota of over-emotional behaviour for the time being, he stepped away. "Do you think you could finish packing? I still have to call Alexis. And your dad."

She nodded, the numbness having long faded to something churning again. She was angry, irritated, sad… Negative and positive meeting without cancelling each other out. Instead they fought in her head as she went about taking things from the dresser, from the closet.

She didn't know what to do, she realized with startling clarity. She'd been walking in a fog, but it was protection. Her life was her job, even with Rick in it, and she couldn't seem to get a hold of herself long enough to make decisions, to address problems, to find solutions. Hell, she didn't want to find solutions. She wanted her job back, her badge back, her _life_ back. The fact that it had been taken away made her angry and frustrated. And it bloody well _hurt_.

The lack of control chewed at her nerve endings, making her itch with pent up energy. The sadness made her chest constrict until it hurt. Yet, the fight had triggered a piece of her that had been buried, the piece that was passion and volatile emotion woven together. She could feel it mixing with the anger and viciousness in her blood. Who the hell were they to even _consider_ she'd kill someone. No matter who these people were, they had families. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, whatever it was, every life that was snuffed out before its time had _someone_. She may have hated Juddoo, but she'd never, _ever_ disrespect the badge, or herself by killing him.

And she knew how it felt to be on the other side of that line. She knew what it felt like to be a victim's family and had vowed to herself from the beginning that she would always, _always_ give the family everything and more. She would find the criminal. She would ensure they were prosecuted to the fullest extent. If it was necessary, she'd make sure they rotted in the most hellish jail she could find. And every time she gave someone else closer, it gave her just a sliver of hope that one day, she'd have the same thing.

But now… now there were families out there that didn't have that promise. The NYPD had stripped her of that privilege, of that driving force. They'd ripped her apart at the core and left her shaking and raw in their wake.

So she'd let Rick whisk her away – not that they were really going that far – get some perspective.

And hell, maybe when Rick took his eyes off her, she'd be able to work the case herself. Because now that he'd sparked the passion in her again, she was going to use it to get her badge back.

Maybe then she would start to feel like she was getting her life back.

* * *

Alexis Castle loved Princeton.

She'd changed her mind over the summer about what college to choose. Stanford had changed to Princeton and the quick trip home coupled with the prestige and beauty of the campus had made it a great spot for her. And she'd slid fluidly into her college routine. And that included regular calls from her father.

So when his name popped up on the caller ID, she didn't think much of it. Though she did roll her eyes in affectionate exasperation as she hit 'talk'

"Dad, I'm exactly the same as I was three hours ago when you called. Stop checking up on me."

All she got, was silence.

"Dad?"

Then, a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Honey. Do you think you could come down a week earlier than we'd talked about? I know it'll be a week of classes but-"

"Dad, what happened? Is it Kate? Is she okay?" While she and Kate had been through their own ups and downs she didn't hate the woman. In fact, Alexis liked Kate a lot.

"She's physically fine," her father replied promptly, his tone dead serious. When it came to Kate, there were some things they just didn't joke about.

"Oh God, Dad."

His breath came on a heavy sigh through the phone. "They took her badge, Alexis. And her gun."

Alexis stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. When the person behind her swore, she levelled them with a glare Kate would have been proud of. "Why?"

"She's a suspect in the murder of another police officer," her father answered. There were too many emotions in his voice for Alexis to make heads or tails of most of it.

"A _what_?"

"I know, Sweetie. It's… It's why we're going away early. Tomorrow. Do you think you can get to Boston?"

Alexis put her father on speaker as she scrolled through her phone calendar. She didn't have tests coming up, or assignments and she knew a couple of people she could e-mail about her notes… "I can be on a train tomorrow," she replied. "At the latest."

"Try for something today," he requested and Alexis heard everything her father didn't say. He needed her. Which meant she'd do everything she could to get there as soon as possible.

"I'll look for something that gets in around dinner," she promised. "Dad…"

"I don't know, Pumpkin," he answered her unspoken question. "I… I want to tell you everything is fine, that everything will be fine."

But he'd never lied to her. And from the sounds of it, he wasn't going to start now. "Okay. Okay. I'll… as soon as I can, Dad. As soon as I can."

Because Alexis would do one thing, and one thing only, for her family: _everything_.

When New York – or Kate Beckett's – Justice League gathered around the murder boards later that night, not a single one of them looked particularly happy.

"John freaking Smith?" Lanie growled as she looked over the information the boys had put together. Sure, she wasn't a detective, but she wasn't an idiot, either. "When did we get absorbed into _Pocahontas_?"

No one so much as cracked a smile.

It was a testament to the fact that they still had little to go on. Jason Juddoo had been stabbed sixteen times. The weapon had been a common kitchen knife, apparently yanked from the knife block in the kitchen. Even the tip that had broken off had told them nothing more than the rage with which the Detective had been dispatched. The only fingerprint on the knife had been that of an unknown male.

The super hadn't been much help either. The guy who rented the apartment – and Ryan and Esposito had double-checked to make sure 'guy' meant 'male' – had done so over the phone. It was unorthodox, the super had admitted, but he'd doubled the first-and-last payment. The call had come in three months ago. Payment was made via cash mailed from Nyack, New York, a forty-minute drive from Manhattan.

"He's seriously been planning this for _months_?" Rebecca inquired. "Isn't that…"

"Insane?" Ryan offered.

"Twisted?" Esposito added.

"How about disgusting?" Lanie snapped.

"Sadistic," Sookhold offered.

"Exactly," Rebecca interjected. "I know I'm just a reported, but even I know three months is a _long_ time to be planning murders. And I still don't get why Detective Beckett's on the hook for this."

"That blood on the pile of clothes?" Lanie pointed to a picture on Esposito's desk. "Juddoo's blood."

"And, what? They're hers?" Rebecca was sworn to secrecy on all of the pertinent details of the case and had agreed not to publish _anything_ without the express permission of each detective and the captain. So they'd read her in. It wasn't a confidential case, per se, but the less people who knew all of the information, the better when it came to serials.

"Can't prove it," Sookhold answered. "Mind, we can't prove they _aren't_ hers, either."

"And with the messy altercation in the precinct," Ryan picked up, rolling his hands in the universal gesture for 'etcetera'. "We have to definitively prove she wasn't there. As long as there's doubt, she's at risk."

"We're searching addresses, we'll go canvass the neighbours again tomorrow," Sookhold said.

Esposito's phone broke the depressing silence that fell after Sookhold's statement. After a couple of quick exchanges, he hung up again and didn't bother hiding the exhaustion. "Tech. They've got all the security footage."

"All?" Lanie asked, raising an eyebrow. Security footage was notoriously grainy and difficult on the eyes.

"Traffic cams, ATM cams… anything and everything they could find within 'public' – and I use that term loosely – access," he answered.

"Excellent. Hours and hours of footage. Just what I signed up for," Ryan groused. "And here I thought I'd be able to get home to Jenny tonight."

There was a beat of silence before Rebecca blurted, "I'll do it." She turned sheepish the minute the words were out of her mouth. "You guys look exhausted, and I'm used to pulling all-nighters. I did them in college, I do them now. News never sleeps. So I'll start, and you guys can pick it up in the morning."

Despite the fact that it broke more than one of the NYPD's evidentiary procedures, the offer was _extremely _tempting.

"I'll stay with her," Sookhold finally offered, knowing someone had to. Despite the fact that this was his partner's death and a good cop was on the chopping block, he was the one who was the most detached. He was the one that didn't look so drained. He could afford an all-nighter with security tapes. "Chain of evidence and everything."

The relief was obvious in the other three faces, despite the fact that they did seem to try and hide it.

"If we find something, we'll call," Sookhold added immediately.

Ryan and Esposito knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Esposito linked his fingers through Lanie's. "Let's go, _Cari_. I think I have Mama's empanadas in my fridge."

The ME squeezed Esposito's hand. "Sure thing. You guys sure you'll be okay?" It felt weird to leave Kate's case in the hands of the two people who knew her the least.

Rebecca shrugged with surprising nonchalance considering the glee in her stomach. She was actually helping out on a case. NYPD homicide. It was surreal! "Fine. We'll order pizza or something." Then she winced. "Did that sound as teenager as I think it did?"

Lanie's eyebrow had already risen and despite the gravity of the situation surrounding them, Ryan was smiling. It was a nice bit of levity before leaving the doom and gloom.

"We'll call," Sookhold repeated as Ryan, Esposito and Lanie gathered their things. When the elevator doors slid closed, Sookhold couldn't stop himself from holding a gentlemanly arm out for Rebecca. "What do you say I show you where the tech room is."

She grinned. "Security footage. My favourite."

* * *

_So I realized something really interesting the other day. I was glancing through old reviews (I do that occasionally. A lift my spirits kind of thing) and I realized that while we love reading about Kate and Rick getting together, we seem less and less enthusiastic about them when they _are_. It entertained me, and I felt like I wanted to share. California, for example, got more reviews in the same amount of chapters as this. Maybe it's the case focus, but California was also the first little game before it spiralled out of control (that's what I keep telling myself. I'm queen of denial, I am, when it comes to series). _

_This isn't a complaint. It's not meant to be such. I'm still shocked, honoured, and a whole bunch of other crazy emotions at the consistent response I get. It's an observation. Because I do it too. I'll skip the fic with them and a baby, but I won't skip the one where they share their first kiss. And it puts a damper on my life a little 'cause I had some vague, sketched out ideas for where I wanted to go with this series (did you really think I was ending it with this one? When you see the ending, you'll see why). I'll still write them, but now I get to battle the 'overdone cliché' in writing them. _

_Yeah. I said them. _

_Now, about the chapter? I'm not sure how I feel about it. I feel like Kate ping-pongs. Admittedly, that can be very in character considering the proverbial rug was just yanked unceremoniously from beneath her (does that even make sense?) but it drives me nuts. Know what else is nuts too? It's like 5500 words. I gotta stop writing these epic chapters. _

_Not!_

_Let me know how you feel about (especially) Kate at the beginning there, kay? 'Cause I'm being an insecure writer that doesn't feel like she's done what she should have with the complexities presented in the form of Kate Beckett. Thanks in advance!_


	14. Chapter 14

*_Mistakes, as always, are mine. I'd get a beta if I wasn't so protective and impatient*_

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 14  
_

. . . . .

It had been a while since Jim had seen his daughter. In fact, it had been too long, if the ragged look on Rick's face was any indication. Now that he thought about it, the last time he'd seen his Katie had been not long after she'd been shot. It was just the way their relationship worked. Kate tried with every piece of her to protect her father from what she did. Jim knew and, to a certain extent, understood it.

Because Kate had been his saviour.

It was a clichéd notion, but at the same time, so completely true. It had been the gash to her stomach that had woken him up, and his daughter he'd called when he was worried about falling off. She reminded him of his Johanna and yet, was also her own woman. They were fairly close, even if they didn't talk much. Jim understood that too. Her life before Rick had always been her job. Her job was something they didn't talk about. But when they needed each other, Jim knew his daughter was there. And vice versa.

It broke his heart to see her curled up against the love of her life. When Rick had called to make the last minute change, Jim had been immediately on edge. The man had sounded upset and exhausted and Jim had felt his own heart crack as Rick explained what had happened.

"She needs to get out of the city," Rick had said. "She needs to step away from this case."

Jim hadn't hesitated to agree. And he was glad he did. There was something wrong with his little girl.

When Rick had called, he'd been immediately on edge. Seeing her, watching how carefully Rick cradled her, Jim felt his heart all but shatter. This was exactly what she wasn't supposed to deal with. They'd been through so much, both together and apart, and it never seemed like they could catch a break.

So neither man said a word as Jim led the way to one of the bedrooms.

"Alexis?" Jim asked quietly, finally, as he watched Rick remove Kate's belt and shoes. He felt his heart clench a little more as he realized that doing things like that, taking care of his daughter was becoming someone else's job. While he was over the moon for Rick and for Kate, he couldn't help feeling that loss.

"Tonight." Rick checked his watch as he set one of Kate's shoes aside. "Now."

"I'll go," Jim offered because there was nothing else he could do. His daughter needed the man looking at her like his world was right in front of him. "Train station?"

"Jim, I-"

"Are going to stay with my daughter." Jim reached out. "Rick, she's my little girl and she needs you. I'll get Alexis. We'll talk in the morning."

The grateful look on Rick's face said it all.

Jim closed the bedroom door softly behind him and had to take a moment to wipe away the tears pooling in his eyes. His Katie. Little Katie who wasn't so little any more. But that didn't much matter to her father. They'd been through so much together, and it was destroying him to see her hurting so much. He should have stepped in sooner, should have stopped her from getting so absorbed in her job, should have…

He sighed.

Should haves weren't going to change anything, now were they?

And there was an anxious teenager waiting on him.

* * *

There was a good reason cops hated security footage.

Yet, at the same time, Mark wasn't sure how he felt about this particular viewing session.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the grainy footage – the amount of footage they'd looked through and had yet to look through was inhumane and Mark was pretty sure his skull was trying to suck his eyes inside – and everything to do with the acerbic and rather funny woman beside him. He had to admit, despite the fact that they were doing one of the more tedious aspects of the job, it had seemed less of an annoyance with her witty repartee breaking up the monotony.

It was scary, the kinds of people that slid in and out of the lives of detectives. This one wasn't much taller than Doctor Parish and, he discovered, cursed like a sailor. She'd been a trooper too, and Mark wouldn't discount years of school and last minute deadlines as anything less than practice. But, she hadn't held out as long.

And he hadn't had the heart to move her.

Because her head had started to droop, falling forward first, before she'd dropped all barriers and used his shoulder. Well, his arm really because she was so bloody short.

As it was, she confused him. Why was she here? She'd said it was because of Beckett, because of what the woman represented to the loved ones of victims, but she was still a reporter. Wasn't she? Yet, she seemed to dive right into the thick of it with them. He could, in some ways, see the parallel of her job and the detective work. It was, essentially, hunting down a story. And to learn the whole story, it was necessary to flip through all of the pages.

To a certain degree, it awed him. What kind of woman could command the respect of so many people without trying? Because that's what Beckett had done. She'd always had the faith of Detectives Ryan and Esposito. They went out into the field with her every damned day and trusted her to have their backs. It certainly seemed like Beckett and Parish were close friends.

So where had this redhead come from?

With a heavy sigh, he turned back to the footage. It would do him no good to ponder tonight. Not like that. He was going down a dangerous road as it was. He hadn't had the heart to move her from his shoulder. He could smell drifts of fruit every time one of them shifted and could see that shock of red in his peripheral vision.

And despite the fact that there was a damned good cop on the line for killing another, it didn't all seem so dark any more.

He shifted again. God, he wasn't made for this. But Ryan and Esposito had been running longer than he had. He'd managed to catch a proverbial break before picking up this case and from what he'd managed to gather, they'd been running full steam long before he'd stepped on the scene. So Mark had stepped in, because they needed good eyes, and they needed fresh eyes.

Fresh eyes caught things.

Like five-foot-nine, sweat-wearing, anxious-looking detectives walking by the traffic camera at Second Avenue and East Houston. With some careful camera switching, her followed her up to Coral Towers. As he watched her direction, and did some serious work on the Department of Transportation's website, he could feel his adrenaline starting to pump.

"You're doing a damned loop," he murmured to himself.

"What?"

Her voice was groggy with sleep, but she slapped awake faster than some cops. "You found her?"

"I may have," Mark responded. The description of the sweats Beckett had worn matched the woman on screen, but some of the cameras were so bloody blurry…

"Can you clean this up?"

He growled. "I'm no tech guru, okay?"

Rebecca held up her hands in surrender. "I wasn't judging." She leaned forward again though. "1:07. There's no way she could have had time to get to Manhattan, stage the scene, kill your partner, stash the clothes, clean the scene _and_ get back in time for both Mister Castle and Detective Beckett to say she was home by two."

Mark sighed. She was right, but… "There's no way we can prove that's definitively Detective Beckett. I'll get the tech guys to clear it up as much as they can, but we still need something _concrete_."

"So we're back to square one."

"I'm sick of being back at square one."

The exclamation, accompanied by the passionate anger in his voice had Rebecca arching an eyebrow. Honestly, he'd expected her to cower. He was both surprised and thankful she didn't.

He'd been bottling things up. He knew he had, and rightfully so. He couldn't just rip a hole into the nearest detective because the pressure of the case was all but killing him. No. He was Mark Sookhold, dependable, stable, calm in the face of all adversity. But the fact that this reporter didn't shrink away from his outburst wedged herself into a hole in the proverbial dam, widening it until he stood up to pace.

"From the beginning we've had nothing. _Nothing_. Even when Detective Beckett was on the case we couldn't make heads or tails of a damned thing. And now we're here, without her, and we can't do it either. She's _counting_ on us."

Still, Rebecca did not reply, and Mark found himself wondering if maybe she was more intuitive than he'd given her credit for. He'd needed this. He could already feel his mind focusing, narrowing in on the anger and frustration. And she just sat there. So he vented, about Jay, about the case, about the detectives… exhaustion, anger, frustration, impotence… all in spades.

She just sat there.

When he was done, he plopped back down into his chair, dropping his head into his hands. When he looked up at her, she was still watching him with that damned arched eyebrow.

"Done?" she asked curtly.

He nodded.

"Feel better?"

He nodded again.

"Then order pizza and let's find a better angle."

He blinked when she turned back to the tiny television. Slowly, as his mind processed what had just happened, he found himself smiling. Hell, they weren't even friends and she'd let him just rant and vent like they'd been close for years. He shook his head as he stood to follow her request, then turned back at the door.

"Hey Hall?"

She looked up.

"Thanks."

She flashed him a devastating grin. "Someone had to get you out of moping like a girl."

Mark flashed her his own, and wondered for a split second if the spark of feminine appreciation had been a mirage. "You passed out."

"I was resting my eyes," she shot back without missing a beat.

"That's not what the drool patch on my shoulder says." He was out the door before she could pick up her jaw, let alone reply, but it didn't matter. Mark felt his spirits lifting, if only slightly. He'd needed that. Why he'd vented to her, of all people, he wasn't sure he'd ever understand. But he also wasn't sure he really cared. She'd done something no one had done for him in a very long time.

That had to count for something, right?

* * *

Jim spotted Alexis almost immediately. "Alexis!"

She wove her way with surprising speed to stand in front of him. They stood there awkwardly for a minute, Jim seeing the anguish that he knew was probably mirrored in his own face, knowing that they were both thinking of the pain their family was going through. They'd only met twice, Christmas and Thanksgiving, but that didn't stop Jim from ignoring the awkwardness to pull the young woman into a tight hug.

And, it seemed, it was exactly what Alexis had needed.

With one violent shiver, Alexis broke down, shaking and shivering as she tried not to sob. Jim held her tight, the same way he'd held a teenage Kate. And if he was honest, he took comfort in having Alexis there as well.

"What happened?" she sniffled when she finally got a hold of herself. "Dad didn't tell me much."

Jim wiped at her tears. "They haven't told me much either. They just got here."

Alexis' eyes widened. "Dad called me this morning!" She sniffled again, and he smiled slightly as he produced a handkerchief from his pocket. "Everything's going to be okay, right?"

Jim looked at Alexis, the red eyes, the runny nose, the absolute terror in her eyes. He didn't have a good answer for her. Hell, he wasn't sure he had any answer for her. He stroked her arms before taking her hands. "Let's get home and get some sleep, okay?" he told her quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. "We'll… re-evaluate in the morning."

He'd thought it was dealt with, but when they were safely in the car, Alexis all but exploded.

"I don't get it." She barreled on before Jim could even open his mouth. "I mean… It's Kate. That has to stand for something, doesn't it? They can't just throw that away because of some asshole cop."

Jim's eyebrows rose. It was honestly uncharacteristic for Alexis to use such strong language, let alone such strong language in relation to the NYPD.

"And I did some research. I've seen all the articles. And some of the things this Juddoo was saying? I don't even know where he could have gotten such false information from. The _tabloids_ don't even write that kind of stuff, so where does he come off thinking such things? Kate works _hard_ sometimes, I think, too hard and it's crap that she's being sidelined for something she totally didn't do!"

It took a surprising amount of strength to keep from smiling. But it was also heart-warming. Jim had been honestly concerned for a while that his Katie wouldn't have what he'd had with Johanna. That was the only thing he'd wanted for his daughter because despite the fact Johanna had been taken early, he loved her, and he wouldn't change the fact that he had her for the world. From the reactions of the Castles, Jim felt honestly content that Kate had found that. Finally.

And despite the fact that it was _killing_ him to see her struggle like this, he hoped that this shifted things in his daughter. Maybe she'd stop to smell the roses every once in a while.

"And, _and_, why would they even _consider_ that she would kill someone? This is _Kate_, okay? I mean… how can they praise her one minute for the work she does, then turn around and… and…"

Jim was a little shocked to realize that Alexis knew _exactly_ what this had done to Kate. He'd figured from his limited interaction with her that she was smart, swift, perceptive, but the fact that she knew how deep this ran brought new respect.

"And," Jim began when it became obvious that Alexis wasn't going to go any further. "I think we both know that she has some great support." Or at least, he certainly hoped the team she talked so much about was going to bat for her. Not that he doubted they would.

Alexis slouched in her seat. "What if it's not enough?" She cleared her throat. "What if…"

"There is no what if," Jim said, sharper than he'd intended. He didn't want to think of what his daughter would have to endure if she wasn't reinstated. He sighed as he reached over to settle a hand on her clenched ones. "Right now, all we can do is support them."

Alexis swallowed, but nodded. Then she turned to Jim, eyes still shining with tears. "I need to see my dad."

They made the drive back to the house in Boston's Back Bay in silence. Jim, aware that Alexis could be very talkative, didn't fault the girl her anxious silence. They were in the same boat, both worried, both anxious, both unsure of what to do to help. And Jim _hated_ that feeling.

When they arrived at the house, Jim put the car in park and handed Alexis the keys. "I'll get your bags."

Alexis bolted out of the car and up the walk. It took a few tries but she manged to get the key in the lock, despite the violent shaking of her hands. She almost growled in frustration when she realized she had no idea where her dad was. Anxiousness won out over politeness as she called out for him.

She saw him as she climbed the stairs, just pulling a door closed. She paused, chewing her lip, unsure of what she wanted to do. Her father made the decision for her as he pressed a finger to his mouth before opening his arms for her. Alexis rushed over all but tackling him in a bone-crushing hug. He hugged her back, just as tight, just as fiercely.

"This sucks," she whispered.

"I know," her father replied, stroking her hair. "I know."

After a moment, Rick pulled back. "Where's Jim."

"Bringing in my bags," Alexis responded letting her father wipe away some of the tear tracks. "Dad-"

But Rick was already shaking his head, anticipating his daughter's question. "Tonight, the best thing to do is to try and get some sleep, okay?" He kissed her forehead. "Everything else can wait until morning."

"But-"

"Bed, daughter," he urged, none too gently.

She nodded, but didn't let go.

"Sweetie."

But she shook her head, swallowing thickly then looking up at him. "No matter what, Dad, I love you, okay? Both of you."

Rick smiled and hugged her again. "I know that. I'm sure Kate knows that too."

Jim appeared at the top of the stairs then, Alexis' duffles in each of his hands. The teenager released her father with one more fierce hug before heading to Jim. Rick watched them, and couldn't help but smile. He bid Jim goodnight with a brief nod, then stepped back into the room with Kate. She still slept. Or, more appropriately, she'd fallen back asleep. Because if she believed for a moment he hadn't realized she'd woken up when they'd made it to the house, she underestimated him.

He crawled back into bed and pulled Kate close his mind a whirl. Now that everyone was here, it was time to start helping Kate see that she wasn't just a detective. No matter what it took, no matter how long, no matter how hard she fought, he'd make her see.

He fell asleep planning, and plotting, hoping above all else, something_, anything_, would remind Kate that being a detective didn't change who she was.

Absolutely nothing could.

* * *

The next morning, Jim wasn't really surprised to see Alexis and Rick downstairs without Kate. But he also knew his daughter well enough to climb the stairs. Sure enough, the ladder that led to the 'kids attic' was down and he climbed it carefully. "Katie?"

Kate looked up as her dad stepped into the bedroom she'd shared with too many of her cousins during family vacations. The room was built for children so, she hadn't let Rick see the room yet, and he'd been remarkably good about staying out. Her father, however, had no barriers when it came to this. And rightly so.

"Hi, Daddy."

"You okay, Honey?"

"No," Kate said, knowing her father knew that already. She knew Rick had carried her in the house the night before, and she'd feigned sleep, but she also knew this conversation was going to come at some point. There was no reason to put it off. "No I'm not."

Jim waited, but she said nothing. "I've been following the news."

"So you know." Her voice was devoid of emotion. Jim wasn't surprised. She'd done this before, she'd hidden like this before. They'd spent three months in family therapy with her speaking in that tone of voice before she broke.

"Yeah, I know." He echoed her emotionlessness. "Doesn't mean I don't want to hear your side."

"I didn't do it."

"I didn't think you did." He sat on the edge of her bed, the same way he always had when he'd kissed her goodnight. "Talk to me."

The tears came without her express permission, though considering the stress she'd been through, it wasn't a surprise. And her father had seen her at her best and her worst. She sat up from where she was reclining against the headboard and rested her head on his shoulder. "Dad, I'm not where I wanted to be."

Jim shifted so his arm wrapped around his daughter, and pillowed his head against hers. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… When Mom was here, I was sure I was going to be married by now, raising a family, have a glamourous and stellar career. Now, I'm not sure I'm cut out for any of it. And the career I did have was far from glamourous."

"Poppycock," Jim said, getting the watery chuckle he was aiming for and ignoring her use of past tense. She was so unstable, so unsure, nothing like his Katie. "You know you're good at whatever you put your mind to."

"Not this. This is different."

"How is it different?"

"Dad, I've lost my job."

"Your job is not your life." His voice was stern, solid enough that her head came up. "You are not just a cop, Katherine."

He'd full-named her and her spine stiffened in response. "It's my life."

"It's a piece of your life." Jim turned, meeting his little girl head on. "You are a fantastic policewoman. When the time comes, you will be a fantastic mother."

"I'm not married."

"I know that. But there's a man downstairs that is so in love with you, Katie. So incredibly in love with you that he called me to tell me that we'd be moving our vacation to your earliest convenience, not out of a disrespect for your dedication, but out of love and concern for your health and well-being." He reached forward, cupping her cheeks in his hands, a piece of him wondering how his whip smart daughter had missed all the signs. "That man is going to marry you, Honey. There is no doubt in my mind."

She looked alarmed. "Has he talked to you?"

"You mean has he asked permission?" Jim shook his head. "No. But I can tell."

"Dad-"

"He looks at you like you mother looked at me," he interrupted softly. "Like you're the greatest thing in his life. Like there's nothing better. Like he'd move heaven and earth if it meant your happiness." He shook his head. "It makes you feel… invincible."

Kate sighed and dropped back to the bed. "I don't know. I certainly don't feel invincible." Her eyes slammed closed against the pain that spread through her chest and stomach, the tears that leaked out of her eyes. "I miss her, Dad. So much."

Jim did the only thing he could think of, and something he hadn't done since his little girl had been ten. He lay down beside her, looking up at the ceiling.

"When your mother died, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how I was going to live. She was my rock and I didn't know how to be _anything_." He smiled at her. "But you… You were still there and you were my little girl, the only piece of Johanna I had left. You scared me, even at twenty-one, because I barely knew how to deal with her death myself, let alone how I was going to help you. I didn't know how to be a single widower with an independent adult daughter.

"I turned to the bottle, because then I could forget my failures, I could forget that your mom wasn't here, and I could forget that I couldn't help you. And then…"

He didn't have to tell her. Her hand floated absently to her stomach where the scar still stood as a reminder.

"I realized it didn't matter. It was better to be the best dad I could, rather than no father at all. Whenever I felt the failure dragging me down, I thought of you, of the surprise, of the blood and of how much of a failure I had been. I wasn't going to do it again."

He laughed slightly. "You know, when you decided to be a cop, I couldn't decide if I'd succeeded or failed. So much of that choice depended on your mother, on what we'd been through. I became a recovering alcoholic with a daughter on the streets, putting herself in danger day in and day out, and I had to adjust to that constant worry. For the first few months I jumped every time the phone rang. It terrified me. I'd just found myself, I'd just found my balance. I had no idea what I would do if I had to go through it all again."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kate interrupted, even as she leaned into Jim's side.

"Because you need to know that just because you're not a cop right now doesn't mean you should give up. You're still Katherine Louise Beckett. You're still the gap-toothed seven-year-old that brought home a stray puppy and begged us to keep it. You're still the cute little girl in pigtails that refused to ever use training wheels when you learned to ride a bike. You're still the twelve-year-old that got up at three am on Father's Day and made an absolute mess of the kitchen trying to make me breakfast. You're still the most beautiful young woman that walked across the stage at your high school graduation.

"You're still the broken college grad dealing with your alcoholic father and your murdered mother. You're still the strong, independent rookie that finally got fed up and helped me see sense. You're still your mother's daughter and you become more and more like her every day. And most importantly, you're still my little girl. You're still the love of Rick's life. We're not going to abandon you just because you're not carrying a gun and a badge."

Kate wiped at her eyes. "What do I do if I can't be a cop?"

"Well, Rick's not going to leave you. You could always be a housewife."

Kate wrinkled her nose, and managed a smile when her dad laughed.

"I didn't think so." Jim rubbed her back. "You can do whatever you want. You're smart enough. But don't give up on your friends. You believe in truth, you believe in justice and you believe that with enough work, with enough pushing, you find both. You'll have your badge and gun back before you can blink."

She sighed. "Everyone is telling me that."

"But you don't believe it."

"I can't believe it," she answered, picking childishly at a loose thread on the quilt. "What if I believe it and I'm wrong?"

"Then you'll see pigs flying across the sky."

The smile popped out as she rolled her eyes. "Dad, I'm serious."

"So am I." He took her hands. "I did wrong by you, Katie."

"Dad," she said immediately. "You-"

"I let you get too wrapped up in the job. I let you use your mother's case to define who you are. And that shouldn't have happened."

She squeezed his hands. "You didn't have much of a choice."

"You're right," he agreed. "I was too absorbed in my next liquor bottle to see that you were losing yourself. You're not my carefree little girl any more. You're not the rebellious, adventurous woman I'd hoped you'd become."

"You _wanted_ me to be rebellious?" Kate asked in surprise.

"I wanted you to be whatever you wanted to be. But more than that, I wanted you to find someone and something to believe in. And you _have_." He stroked a hand over her head, the same way he'd done when she was a child. "Life never gives us something we can't handle, Katie."

But though she nodded, Kate wasn't sure that was true.

* * *

_Is the first half of this confusing? Yes? Then success! I've done my proverbial "job". The rest of it? Well, I promised myself this time I'd keep my yap shut. It seems as though I made a few miscalculations for which I apologize. For jumping to conclusions with no concrete evidence. Kate Beckett would have my head._

_Either way, I do hope this lives up to the praise you gave me for the last chapter._

_I'm also realizing I should have polled you guys for Kate's middle name. I don't like Louise so if you have one you think is better let me know. Because, like I said, I still don't like it. But it stuck and thus, the brain would not allow me to try and come up with a different one. How annoying is that?_

_So! Am I crazy? Actually don't answer that one. Just… let me know if this, at the very least, seems believable within my little universe here. Deal?_

_PS: I did SO MUCH GOOGLING. No really. I don't live in New York, and I certainly don't live in Boston, so a lot of that stuff is based on as much Googling and reading as I could do. That includes the surveillance stuff. My apologies if it still seems implausible. Also, math? Not my strong suit. Just saying._


	15. Chapter 15

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 15  
_

. . . . .

Some days, Roy really hated his job.

This was one of them.

He was missing a piece of his best team. It wasn't that all of his detectives weren't the best, but Beckett, Ryan and Esposito had always, it seemed, worked so well together. With the addition of Castle, their close rate had grown exponentially.

But Beckett meant more to him than just another detective, and more than his best detective. When he'd met her, Beckett had been wounded and fighting tooth and nail for a foothold in the NYPD. She'd had haunted eyes and a worth ethic that Roy knew would burn her out long before she did anything meaningful. It got worse and worse before he'd stepped in, ordered her out of the precinct and presented him with a brutal ultimatum.

She'd changed then. Only slightly, but she was obviously doing something right. She stopped taking files home, stopped coming in long before the sunrise and stopped working so much overtime. She still did – and continued to – but it was a couple of hours instead of half the night. Roy had pushed her to be the best, pushed her to think outside the box, to look for information in unlikely places, but also, to a certain degree, played her conscience.

Still, he considered Beckett as good as his own daughter. He knew her better than she gave him credit for.

He'd known exactly what taking away her badge and gun would do.

It would shatter her. And now that he'd seen her in the aftermath, he knew he'd been right. Never in his life had he been happier that she was sharing her life with someone, and never had he approved of Kate's men like he did Rick. It wasn't that he had any say – and so any opinions of the few he did come in contact with were kept carefully to himself – but Rick did things no other man had. Kate was the consummate control freak. She needed control, constantly, _especially_ in her professional life. Roy knew it stemmed, as most things did, from her mother's case. On the job, she could have that control. She made the decisions and rarely did she make decisions that were _wrong_.

And by taking her badge and her gun, he'd taken that control from her.

Roy knew, at the basis, Kate understood the necessity. Somewhere, a piece of her logical brain was helping her see that he didn't have a choice. With the evidence, with the fight, with the media… they needed to ensure the investigation was spotless. She had motive and plenty of it. She had opportunity – though Sookhold and a reporter they'd some how acquired were off trailing Kate's route to see if they could poke holes in that theory – and as a detective, she would have the means and the knowledge to get the job done. Roy didn't believe it for a second, but he also knew his detective. She valued human life and _hated_ when she had to end it without good reason. And despite everything Juddoo had done, all of the things he'd said, it wasn't enough to justify killing him.

Not that there wasn't a piece of Roy that knew it couldn't have come at a better time. He'd been holding out for Rick to step in, to whisk her away again, because Kate sure as hell needed a vacation. It was, technically, his place. He'd been looking after Kate long before the two of them had broken through their proverbial walls and he'd done a damned good job of it. It was the reason Roy had reigned in the pieces of himself that had wanted to slaughter the man the multitude of times the writer had stepped on his detective's heart. Rick meant well. He always did. And they worked so well together.

But seeing her, watching her, that IAB interview… It was one of the hardest things he'd had to do on the job. When it came to Kate, things always seemed so much more personal. As much as that helped her on the job, it was also a hindrance to her. Yet, the interview hadn't gone as he'd expected. It seemed like not only could Kate hold her own, but she hadn't been shy about needing Rick's support. He'd been proud as hell of her, and as much as he wanted to tell her, he didn't want to put the investigation in jeopardy by being biased.

Just like Ryan and Esposito, there hadn't been a doubt in his mind about being there.

She was one of their own.

He glanced out of the windows to see Ryan and Esposito looking at the murder board in silence. They were a good pair and they'd been damned good with Kate. Roy wasn't so sure he was sold on Sookhold, but he had absolute faith that Ryan and Esposito would be able to clear Kate.

In the meantime…

The minute he pushed open the door, both Ryan and Esposito looked over. "Detectives."

"Captain," Ryan greeted solemnly. He looked like the weakest link, and maybe he was, but it was too easy to underestimate him.

"Where are we?"

Esposito blew out a breath. "Honestly, sir? Nowhere. Nowhere new."

All three men looked to the elevator as it dinged its arrival. And it was a good thing too, as Sookhold stepped off looking right angry.

"Anything?"

"Nothing on Beckett. Rebecca's still looking."

And despite the seriousness of the case, both Ryan and Esposito raised an eyebrow at the familiarity in the name.

Sookhold, meanwhile, slammed a folder down on the desk. "Worse. We've got another one."

* * *

After her father left, Kate lay on that bed for a _long_ time. They'd talked about so much, rehashed so much, and Kate's mind felt like it was spinning out of control.

Really, it was Rick's fault.

Things like 'marriage' and 'forever' were normal in his vocabulary. He believed in fairy tales and happily ever after and Kate wasn't so sure she did. The piece of her childhood she'd managed to hold onto was _screaming_ at her to take advantage, to tell him forever would be exactly what she wanted. But there was so much of her that was injured, broken, disillusioned.

And she still felt like they were very different people. She had her doubts about them, about how long they'd work because while he went after sophisticated, gorgeous, social women, she was none of those things. Well, she didn't see herself as most of those things. She didn't like being wined and dined. Sure, she liked going out and dressing up every once in a while, but she also really liked curling up with a book in sweats. One of her favourite evening activities was to curl up with a book while Rick typed away on his laptop. They were there, together, and that was enough.

She hated the reaction she got when people realized who she was. It was a mixture of awe and disapproval, because, as Rick had pointed out when he first met her, for all intents and purposes, she shouldn't have been a cop. If it wasn't for her mother's case, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be. And she was sure it drove him a little nuts that he couldn't just apologize with pretty, shiny things. Nothing about their relationship was superficial. They demanded _everything_ from each other. No holds barred.

But still, she sat on a bed, doubting him. Doubting them. Why?

Because he loved Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD.

What was he going to do if she wasn't all of that?

With sudden impulsiveness, Kate pushed herself off the bed and went hunting for Rick. The house was eerily silent as she made her way through the well-known halls until she found him on the back porch, just looking out over the landscape. Boston's Back Bay was known for it's charming architecture and, Kate had learned, Rick had a real eye for art.

"It's beautiful out here."

She didn't bother to ask how he'd known she was standing there, just made her way to his side. He sat on a green wicker loveseat, piled with what looked like half of the spare blankets. She didn't wait for an invitation, just slid right in. He kissed the side of her head in a strikingly familiar gesture.

"'Bout time you came to find me."

She shook her head, both because the cheesy line 'I'll always find you' was the first thought that raced through her head and because he knew her well enough to let her come to him instead of the other way around.

They sat there, curled into each other, just watching the scenery for a while. Kate had a passing thought as to where her father and Alexis had gone, but focused again on the man beside her. The man holding her like she was the strongest of metals wrapped in the thinnest of glass. So, uncharacteristically, she dove right in.

"I spent most of my life knowing who I was," she said as he wrapped her tighter against the warmth of his body. "First, it was all about Katie Beckett. I was a social kid. I did everything I could."

"Band?"

She laughed. "Yeah. Sports. Even Reach for the Top."

"Little nerd, even at a young age," he quipped.

She dug her elbow gently into his side, but the smile popped out slightly. Moments like this reminded her why he was so good for her. Moments like these reminded her how in love they were.

"When my mom died," she finally said, picking up his hand and tracing its veins. "Katie… stopped living."

"The illustrious Kate."

"Something like that, yeah. Then, I went to the Academy. Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. That's who I've been for almost fifteen years, Rick. And they took that away from me."

"For now." He was glad she didn't respond. He took it as an opportunity. "You're not just 'detective' though."

She knew the metaphor he was trying to draw. "I'm daughter. I'm friend. I'm confidante. I know I'm a million things, but…" She sucked in a deep breath, searching for the words.

"Kate," he began slowly, breaking in and dislodging her thought processes. He was jumping the gun, but he'd been thinking long and hard about how to help her though this. She wasn't just any regular woman, to him, and to a lot of other people, but at the very basic… Kate felt like she'd lost everything important in her life. He wanted to show her that she wasn't going to lose him. "Are you afraid I won't love you if you're not a cop?"

She jolted, but her fingers never stilled on his. It had gone through her mind. It had torn at her heart. "Isn't that why you fell in love with me?"

Rick took his time in answering, both because he wanted to make sure what he was about to say was true, but also because he wanted – _needed_ – to get the words exactly right. "No. I _met_ you because you're a cop, but I fell in love with you because of something else entirely."

Silence fell as she waited patiently for him to continue and he waited for her reaction. Or, for her eyes, her face, her body language to tell him she understood.

"I need to hear it," she whispered finally.

And that was candid enough to jolt him and act as a huge indicator of where her mind was. He took a deep breath. "You're a cop because you believe in justice. You believe in right and wrong, morals and ethics, and you believe that those who don't, should be put away. Yet, you have a compassion for those people, for their stories, their lives, and their circumstances. You recognize when a story is heartbreaking because it tears apart a family that should be together. You recognize when someone's thrown their life away in a split second decision. And it hurts you when that happens.

"But you still fight for the good, both in people and in the world. Despite the fact that you work a crappy job, and you're pretty cynical about people, you are an optimist. I've seen it in you. Your recovery is the perfect example. You knew, at the end of the day, there was light at the end of the tunnel, both because you would heal, and with Alexis."

"I had my job then," Kate whispered.

"And you'll have it again, Sweetheart," he promised her, pressing a kiss to her head. "They'll find something. These are your friends, they're not just going to leave you stranded."

"I hate it, you know. Just sitting here, doing nothing."

"Moping. Sulking."

"I am not!"

He almost laughed at the spark of fire. He'd missed it, and despite the fact that the case was eating at her, that the empty slate in front of her was absolutely killing her, the time away from the hustle and bustle were doing good things for her. "You were too. Are too."

"I don't sulk, Castle."

"Ouch." But he tilted her chin up to kiss her softly. "See? You're going to be fine."

She looked back out at the charming architecture of the Back Bay. "What if they don't clear me?"

"Beyond the fact that I don't think they'll get much of a choice in the matter, you have the world open to you. You can go back to school, get back into art, literature, whatever you want. You can volunteer, become a mom… the world is your oyster, Kate."

She raised her head slowly, looking at him carefully. "Become a mom?"

He shrugged it off nonchalantly, despite the fact that it had been floating through his brain. He didn't want to rush her, but he did want her to know it was one of those blurry options in his head. More appropriately, a future together. Maybe that included marriage, perhaps a dog or two… and a place like this. This kind of escape. He loved his Hamptons home, but this was more Kate's style.

"No, Rick. This is something we need to talk about." Then she pulled out her trump card. "It'll distract me."

And they both knew he'd do anything to keep her mind off of her troubles. At least until an official verdict came down from IAB. But he took a different angle, shifting, tugging, until she was straddling his lap. He wanted to look at her, and he wanted her to _see_. "I need you to listen and hear me out, okay?"

He waited for her nod.

"You're worried that I won't love you because you've never really thought you were good enough. Why, I have no idea, because, Kate, you were so far out of my league. Still are. You're strong, steady, patient… everything that I'm not, and yes-" he went on before she could open her mouth, "I know that's what makes us good together. But you don't see it that way. Still don't see it that way, I guess. You don't see yourself as someone who deserves…"

"The devotion," she interrupted, noticing his struggle with words. She looked down, at the spot she'd been forced to vacate. "You could have anyone. A starlet, someone who isn't so…. Broken."

"You're broken?"

This was a conversation they'd never had. Not even when she'd been shot. They had their fights – paparazzi that she still 'forgot' he couldn't control, her late nights, her exhaustion, his playboy persona at book signings – but this conversation, the one about them _together_ they'd never actually had.

She sighed, "I have baggage, Rick."

"So do I," he said after a beat, urging her with three short words to continue.

"Not like this. My mother's case almost destroyed me. Literally destroyed me. I spent a month in a psych ward."

That shocked him. She hadn't told anyone. It had been written in her official file as a leave of absence. She'd stored up enough days by then that no one had questioned it.

"It was… an ultimatum," she went on, gripping his shirt in her fist. "I'd just made homicide after Royce retired and Montgomery told me it was either the hospital or my badge. I think he knew I wouldn't just talk to a shrink because he ordered me to, I'd have to make the decision on my own."

Rick swallowed. "Does your dad know?"

"About the hospital? Yeah," she nodded. "He and I spent a lot of time talking that month. I mean really talking. About Mom, about my work, about us, and him, and… everything. When I got out, I booked an appointment with a woman Dad's AA sponsor recommended."

"And you haven't looked back."

"No, but I'm not healed either."

Silence fell for a moment, and Kate watched Rick's contemplative face with apprehension.

"You know I was hooked from the moment I met you," he finally began. "And yes-" he barrelled on before she could interrupt "in the beginning, it was about bedding you. How could I not? You were gorgeous, sharp-witted, in your element. I couldn't seem to ruffle your feathers no matter how much I tried."

"You drove me insane," she said with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

"But you didn't give in," he countered seriously. "You didn't care who I was, what I was, you were going to treat me the same way you treated every criminal."

"Your breath of fresh air."

He tugged her further into his lap with an exasperated look, pillowing her head on his shoulder. "Is this my story, or yours?"

She smiled despite herself. "Keep going."

He let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a 'harumph'. "It wasn't until you told me about your mom that I knew you couldn't be just a good lay."

That jolted her. "My mom?"

"All of a sudden, you weren't just an intriguing beautiful woman. You were a woman with scars, a woman that had an Achilles heel and up until that point, I firmly believed you were invincible. You were so incredibly _real_ and you were real _because_ you had baggage, because you weren't just some woman on the street. You were – and are – an NYPD detective that fights for what she can't have because she believes every victim should. That doesn't come from training, that comes from the heart."

"So you love me because I'm broken."

"No, because your tall." When the required chuckle was finished he tightened his arms around her. "I love you for so many reasons, Kate. One of them is that you're… you're a phoenix."

She lifted her head. "You and Alexis watched Harry Potter last night."

"You were asleep!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Go on."

"Every once in a while, you break. That makes you human. _That_ makes you Nikki Heat. But after you break, you always find a way to put yourself back together. You find some way to step out of the rubble, look back on it, and take something away. You're strong, you're smart, you're intuitive, you're a million things because _you wanted to be_." Rick ran a hand down her back. "You're fiercely independent, sexy as hell and you never let someone tell you what to do. You fight and fight and fight until you get the answers you're looking for. If that means bringing down the richest person in the whole wide world, the person with the most influence, you don't give a damn."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you because of what you've made yourself; because you're heart is so big, and your compassion endless." He stroked a hand down her back. "Starlet, actress, rich cougar… nothing, _not a damned thing_, can beat that."

He spoke with such conviction that Kate's breath shuddered in her lungs. "The fact that you can say that to me, that you know that about me? That's what puts us in the same league. That's what makes us right for each other."

"Do you believe that?" he asked, voice quiet.

"I'm starting to," she replied, her lips brushing over his jawline. "Because, Rick? You're a lot of those things too.

"Then let me be strong. Let me be strong, Kate, so you don't have to be."

He was telling her so many things with that statement, so much about them, about him, about herself… Kate buried her head in his shoulder and held on as tight as she could. She was never _ever_ letting this go.

"I'm going to marry you, Katherine Beckett," he told her softly, murmuring the words into her hair. "I told you that last summer. Whether you're part of the NYPD or part of something else entirely, nothing, _nothing_ will change that."

And she wasn't scared. She wasn't terrified, anxious, doubtful.

She didn't have her badge and gun, but he still wanted _forever_ with her.

Maybe her world wasn't falling apart after all.

* * *

Lanie sighed heavily, flipping the page again. Jason Juddoo's autopsy report stared up at her. She stared back, reading it over again, thinking, hoping dreaming….

Finding.

She'd done the damned autopsy and she hadn't been able to find it. But now she had, and she picked up the phone as she reached for her coat.

"Esposito."

"It's Kate," Lanie said breathlessly, not caring that she was in her pajamas, not giving a rat's ass that she wasn't prepped for the precinct and definitely not caring that she was about to race over there in clothes she'd _never_ let Javier see. She flipped the file closed and ran for her shoes.

"What about her?"

"She's the connection."

"We knew that-"

"Not like this we didn't." She yanked open her door and slammed it closed again, not even bothering to lock her door. "It's Dick Coonan."

"_Cari_, you're not making sense."

"Detective Juddoo is a replica of Dick Coonan's case. _Kate's mom's case_."

He let out a stream of Spanish swear words and she could hear him flipping pages.

"He had to know," Lanie went on, frantically waving her hand. The cab pulled up in front of her and she threw herself into the backseat. "Coonan and Juddoo? He _had to know_. I'm coming in."

"Lain, it's-"

"I'm in a cab. I'm coming in."

There was something in her voice, because Javier paused, then said. "See you soon."

. . . . .

The boys were still hard at work when Lanie came charging in. She wasn't surprised. Serena Flett had been found after missing for three days. She'd been found by a friend who had gone to Serena's, _again_, to see if there was anything to be found. She hadn't anticipated finding her friend in the closet with an axe in her back.

But that wasn't what Lanie was there to talk about.

"Thirteen stab wounds."

"Cari," Javier began carefully. "We knew that. We read the autopsy report."

"Yeah, but _this _is what I didn't figure out." She thumbed through the file until she came across the picture she wanted. Javier, Ryan and Sookhold all gathered around her.

"This is Juddoo's back. Right side. _This_ is the kill strike."

Ryan was the one to give in. "What does it mean?"

"This stab wound went straight to his kidney."

Ryan and Javier took only a split second to make the connection.

"But Coonan's dead. So it doesn't make sense that someone would use his signature," Javier pointed out.

"It's not exact," Lanie replied. "It's not perfect. But someone had to know _something_ to make this happen. Someone had to know something about _Kate_."

"There has been a significance to each of his kills," Sookhold spoke up.

"_And_," Lanie went on. 'The thirteen? Totally more than he needed to. The guy beat Juddoo up, stabbed him in the kidney – which was a kill shot, by the way – and kept stabbing him? One kill shot. The rest to cover it up. Coonan's MO."

The ding of the elevator surprised all of them, and they looked over in confusion as Rebecca Hall, looking exhausted and harried, stepped off the elevator. She was clutching a bookbag to her and looked triumphant.

"What is it?" Sookhold asked, pushing off the desk he was leaning on. After a split second, when he realized how eager he sounded – and he was surprised to find his excitement wasn't necessarily about the case – settled back again. Awkwardly.

Rebecca, nor the surrounding city employees, seemed to notice. Rebecca's stride never broke as she flipped open the file she carried. "I think I found why Juddoo hated Beckett."

* * *

_Kay, before we all go freaking out about Kate's 'month in an institution' there is quote-unquote logic behind it. My aunt died when she was eleven. Leukemia. My grandfather spent two months in a mental hospital to try and deal with it. I've tried my best to show that it wasn't within her power, that it wasn't her decision because I don't think Kate would have made that decision. Since I don't talk to my grandfather about it, I don't know if it was his, or if he was pushed into it. My aunt's kind of a taboo subject in my house. Whether that makes the concept more believable or not is in your hands, but I did want you guys to know where I was coming from on that one. _

_Other than that, and a squee moment because who _didn't_ like Ryan and Esposito in Monday's episode (I laughed. Out loud. Hard. And was glad no one was home to hear it), I'm keeping my mouth firmly shut. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	16. Chapter 16

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 16  
_

. . . . .

The next afternoon, while Rick had locked himself away in their room – Kate didn't mind, she knew it was to decrease the likelihood of interruptions while he wrote and, honestly, she took some pleasure in the fact that despite how much of a mess she'd been not twenty-four hours ago, he wasn't putting _everything_ off – she took the time to watch a movie with Alexis. Since their summer in the Hamptons, the two had become close and Alexis' frustration over the sheer amount of time the detective got with her father had decreased exponentially.

And it left them with evenings like this. Jim had gone to bed early. Kate had wondered if Alexis had put him up to it, but hadn't asked. It left the two women to pick a movie and settle in on the old couch. Alexis had immediately curled up against Kate, pillowing her head on the other woman's shoulder. Kate, as she always did, felt her heart swell at how easy the affection seemed to come to Little Castle. They were twenty minutes into the movie when Alexis spoke.

"You know, you're not Detective Beckett to me."

Kate looked down at Alexis' head. "What?"

The teen tilted her head back, her face deadly serious. "Well, you're thinking in labels, right? Detective, daughter, victim… The whole Beckett versus Katherine thing."

Apparently, Alexis had been having very candid conversations with Jim. Still, Kate nodded slowly.

Alexis shrugged. "You're just Kate to me. You're the woman I call when I need female advice or just need another woman around. You're the one that drools with me over Bradley Cooper and Rob Lowe. You're the woman my dad actually fell head-over-heels, all-the-cliches, no-turning-back-ever, for." She repeated her shrug. "I mean… Yeah, you happen to be a detective, but that's peripheral to me. I think you're just Kate."

There was no way Alexis could understand the real gravity of what she'd just revealed. Could there? She was still young, still trying to figure out who she was. There was no way she could understand what it felt like to have that entire identity upended on it's head. And yet, the _teenager_ was saying all the right things.

"I guess," Alexis began again. Then she sighed, pushing herself away so she could meet Kate's eyes head on. "I guess I just want you to know that if you can't be Detective Beckett again, you'll still be Kate. And detective or not, Dad'll still love you. I'll still love you. That's not going to change just because you can't do your job."

Kate's eyes filled. She wasn't a crier by nature but good God the last few days had turned her into a blubbering mess.

"And to be honest? Sometimes, you're more my mom than Mom is. I love her, but you're here. I know I can count on you, no matter what. It's probably the same thing the families of your victims see in you." She looked down at her hands. "I just needed you to know that."

And though Alexis seemed to just let it sit like that, Kate couldn't let it go. It was difficult. She'd become a detective for one reason and had done very little else with her life. Sure, she read like crazy, and yeah, she picked up a guitar from time to time, but she was a detective. She rolled out of bed at stupid hours of the morning and worked in some of the worst weather conditions because it was what she needed to do. It was her purpose. Yet, there were people, not just in this house, that didn't see her as just a detective.

That was a slow process. Acceptance. Because the more she dwelled on it – it had been her main thought focus for most of the afternoon – the more she realized it was true.

She was Lanie's best friend. They were work sisters. When it came to girl things, there was no one she trusted more than Lanie.

Ryan and Esposito were more than just her teammates. They were her friends. They were her protectors. They were her knights in fairly dented armour while she was their lord. They knew she could take care of herself, but she knew, when things got tough, they'd pick up the slack without question until she could get her feet under her again.

To her dad, Kate knew, she was a piece of Johanna. But she was also his saviour. They had a bond that was unshakable because of what they'd been through, the things they'd battled. Despite how torn up she'd been, she had never really thought her dad would be disappointed.

And then, of course, the Castles. Between Alexis and Rick, she felt more like she had a real true family than she had in a long time. It was scary how they could read her, how Rick could read her. Alexis was a cool breeze to Rick's tornado and though chaos followed their every step, it was a chaos that included unconditional love. And they'd pulled her whole-heartedly into that insanity.

She wasn't completely accepting of her missing badge – and once she took another couple of days she was going to call Lanie and do whatever she needed to do to get the files on the case – but she was well on her way to understanding that maybe she wasn't _all_ the badge.

And even she knew that was a step in the right direction.

* * *

When the doorbell jangled through the house later that evening, Rick and Alexis exchanged a confused look with Jim. Kate seemed unfazed. So much so, that she was the one who stood to answer it.

"Detective Esposito, Doctor Parish," Rick greeted, the confusion still showing in his face as their newest guests stepped inside. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The question, Kate knew, was also directed at her. "Lanie texted me this morning."

"We found something. Well, Rebecca found something," Lanie added, brandishing the file.

"Rebecca?" Rick inquired in confusion.

"Hall, the reporter," Esposito answered. He flashed a grin at his boss. "We've been adopting strays since you left."

And though the sting raced through her, Kate realized it wasn't as painful as it had been. "Does this mean I'm going to have to do house cleaning when I come back?"

This time, it was Lanie's turn to grin. It was good to hear her girl say 'when' instead of 'if'.

Kate looked around briefly. "Let's take this into the kitchen?" she suggested. She turned questioning eyes to Rick, wondering if he wanted to hear it all now or later. The way he folded his arms across his chest as he moved to stand beside her told her exactly where his loyalties lay. She gripped his arm, then released it.

Then, in a blink-and-you-miss-it move, she was Detective Beckett.

It brought a grin to the faces of everyone watching her walk out of the room.

Rick, Lanie and Esposito followed until the four of them were gathered around the kitchen table. There was a moment's pause before Kate sucked in a deep breath.

"Hit me."

"Turns out Juddoo's had anger problems for months. No one thought much of it, but Rebecca dug this up." Lanie jumped in, dropping the file on the table. "We did some more digging. Turns out his wife and sister were in a car accident three years ago with his nephew. All three of them died. The lead detective was Alanna Chow."

Kate flipped slowly through the folder.

"We took the liberty of looking into her," Esposito added. "And the investigation. They had tire tracks, they had paint chips, but they couldn't find anything."

"Not unusual in a hit and run," Rick pointed out, reading over Kate's shoulder.

Both Esposito and Lanie nodded.

"What is unusual is the two restraining orders Chow filed against Juddoo during the investigation. He harassed her."

"So what? He lumped all female detectives together?"

"Chow was an up-and-comer," Kate said, remembering. "Hot shot and good at her job."

Rick turned to her. "Like you."

"And we asked some pointed questions." Lanie grinned. "Sookhold and Juddoo have only been partners about six months. Sookhold was the only one who could deal with the mood swings and the anger issues. Juddoo averaged a new partner every four to six months since the accident."

"God," Kate breathed. "He planned _everything_."

"What do you mean?" Rick asked.

"Molly Carroll was deliberate, we already figured that out. He _put her_ in Juddoo's jurisdiction. He did his research. He knew _exactly_ what to do so there would be a turf war, new exactly what buttons to push. I'm good at my job, I get a lot of high profile murders and I'm high profile by nature of my relationship with Rick. He dropped me in Juddoo's lap," Kate said. "His anger did the rest."

"He hated female cops?" Rick asked. "That's so clichéd! It's a terrible story!"

Esposito and Lanie exchanged a glance. "That's not all," the ME said softly and Kate found herself groping for Rick's hand despite the fact that, really, Lanie's next statement could be anything.

"Juddoo's stabbing," the petite woman began. "Thirteen stab wounds. One kill shot."

"Coonan," Rick said.

Simultaneously, Kate spit out, "My mother."

"Both," Esposito nodded.

"I caught it when I went over the autopsy again," Lanie said. "Rebecca and Sookhold combed through a million hours of surveillance footage. They retraced your steps. Right now… no one saw you. There's still nothing conclusive."

"But," Esposito picked up meeting Kate's eyes with a fierceness not many saw. "This is your case. Our case, but… you were taken off it too early." And unfairly, but that didn't need to be said.

"And now with the mirror image…" Lanie shrugged.

So Kate sucked in a deep breath. There was new information. And if she was honest, she wanted to be part of this fight, part of this case. She had a team that was fighting tooth and nail for her and regardless of whether or not it was against protocol, she knew that Esposito and Lanie had made a calculated risk. With the information in front of her, there was no way she was going to turn down working on the case.

"Start from the beginning."

. . . . .

"You know they're going to go _do it_," Rick murmured as he watched Lanie and Esposito climb the stairs. He couldn't stop himself from smiling when Lanie, two steps ahead of Esposito, reached back for his hand.

They'd been working for hours. Since the house was massive, Kate hadn't hesitated to offer Lanie and Esposito one of the other guest rooms. Alexis and Jim had gone to bed, or at least to their separate rooms, long ago while the four kept working on. They hadn't necessarily discovered anything new, but they'd compiled it all, talked about it all, thrown a few theories about. Despite the fact that Serena Flett's murder hadn't given them anything new, she felt confidence in the fact that she was up to date, that they had a few things.

"So?" Kate responded, shuffling papers around, looking more intent than Rick had seen her. Well, with the one obvious and notable exception.

"So. They're going to _do it_. And I mean _it_, Kate."

She let out an exasperated huff and he was so glad to hear it. "What's your point, Rick?"

"My point is that these have been waiting for a long time." He turned serious, earnest as he reached for her hand. "I just want one more night. Please." He stroked his fingers over her knuckles. "Tomorrow we can go get your life back."

"I have a life," she replied, half on autopilot. She'd realized it over the course of the last week. She had a life with Rick, with Alexis, with this new family she'd become such an integral part of. And she thought of them as family.

He kissed the back of her hand with a small smile. "It's not complete to you until you have that badge on your belt and gun on your hip. And that's okay too." He tugged her close, close enough to kiss her. "So let's take one more night. We're going to have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Okay," she murmured, brushing his mouth against hers. He felt the smile bloom. "First one upstairs gets to be on top."

Though he didn't care either way, he shot up the stairs after her.

. . . . .

Lanie smiled against Javier's chest as she heard Kate's giggle in the hallway. It was a glorious sound to Lanie's ears. She'd been seriously worried about her best friend, about what John Smith had done to her. It seemed like putting her in Richard Castle's hands was the best thing Lanie could have done.

"Think she'll be okay?" Javier asked above her.

She loved how he could tell what she was thinking. They were going to celebrate their one year in a few months and though sometimes their schedules had been incompatible, Lanie was discovering she wasn't getting scared. She wasn't getting skittish. It felt good. "Now? Yeah. I think we're going to have Detective Beckett back in no time."

His hand trailed down her back and slipped under her ratty sleep shirt. They'd had enough time to toss a handful of things into a duffle each and he knew that the long t-shirt she wore was an old favourite. Comfort clothes. "You know, between this and Beckett's shooting, I've been thinking."

She rolled towards him slightly, enough to support herself so she could look at him. "You better not be proposing, Buster."

"No," he agreed with a small smile, hiding the fact that the thought had crossed his mind once or twice. He wasn't usually the type to fall quickly, but he and Lanie had been friends long before they'd crossed that line. It felt natural with her, like an inevitable next step in their relationship.

"Then what?" The tension leaked out of her as she asked, resting her chin on his pectoral muscle. Her mind, however, was alert, flashing back to the Spanish words he'd told her not two days before. Was he about to really say it?

His hands combed through her hair. "Life's pretty damned short."

"Really? You gonna get all philosophical on me now?"

"Nah, not really. Not a philosophical person by nature." He grinned at the top of her head. "More like you gotta grab the bull by the horns while you've got it."

Lanie felt his hand wind more firmly into her hair and went with it when he guided her up to his mouth. "Oh."

"Mmm," he hummed against her lips. "I really like you, Lanie."

She chuckled as she kissed him back. It sounded so high school. "I really like you too. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Her hand snaked down his chest. He gasped.

"Castle and Beckett…"

"Are doin' their own gigglin' down the hall," Lanie replied. She wanted him. They hadn't had time and here, an evening was presenting itself where they weren't too exhausted, where they had the time. She wanted to take advantage of it. Add another snatched moment to their lives. It was going to have to hold her for a while, knowing how hard Kate worked her team. She was damned well going to go with Javier's new revelation and 'take the bull by the horns'.

Well… Maybe not quite.

He groaned and pulled her closer. "God, Lanie."

Then he kissed her again, and Lanie stopped thinking. She moved with him, against him, over him and when they were finished, lying damp and sweaty beside each other, she let herself drift off. Tomorrow would be another day of cases, of Juddoo, of fighting for Kate. So she wallowed in the feel and smell of him as she fell asleep.

* * *

"God damnit!"

Ryan slammed down the phone in irritation. All he wanted to do was go home. He wanted to go home, hug Jenny, cuddle, do _something_ where he didn't feel impotent.

"IAB?" Sookhold asked.

Ryan dropped his head into his hands. "There isn't enough to definitively start an investigation, but there isn't enough to officially clear her."

Right in the damned middle.

Sookhold was silent for a moment, before finally opening his mouth. "We'll get him."

"We don't matter," Ryan snapped.

Because that was the crux of it. It wasn't about whether or not they'd get the guy – Ryan had never doubted their success – but about who would be there when they did. Their team was a family. Dysfunctional at the best of times, but a family nonetheless. And despite how hard Beckett had fought to keep them at arm's length, Esposito and Ryan knew her. They knew the cop. They were detectives themselves, so they'd pieced together enough of the cop to understand what this would mean to her as a woman.

Really, that was why they were running themselves ragged.

The collar would be great. It would be fantastic and neither he, nor Esposito, were willing to sacrifice their integrity or reputations just to stall an investigation. They were working hard. But they were also working for her.

While the arrest would mean fantastic things for Ryan and Esposito, it would mean _everything_ to Beckett.

Ryan understood symbolism. Probably better than most people gave him credit for. He understood what losing the badge meant and he understood why Montgomery felt like he had to be the one to do it. He also knew that there was no where else he was going to be than by Beckett's side for that IAB interview. Though he couldn't say anything, he'd needed to be there, needed to show Beckett that they were willing to do what it took to support her.

She was one of them.

More than that, she was family.

So he knew that Beckett needed to make the arrest. She needed to do the interrogation. She needed to face the man that had cost her everything. Because there was also no doubt in Ryan's mind that the minute they found the serial killer, they'd find the man responsible for Juddoo's death too. The minute they found the man, the evidence, Beckett would be reinstated and be free to take on the interrogation.

It wasn't that he underestimated his worth, nor did he underestimate Esposito's. But it was the _symbolism_ that counted.

Finally, he lifted his head, only to find a nervous young woman standing beside his desk.

"Detective Ryan?"

He nodded.

"I'm Aubrey. Aubrey Sedin." She paused and quite obviously swallowed tears. "Serena was my best friend."

Serena Flett, twenty-two, had taken an axe to the back. Her roommate had found the body in Serena's closet when she'd gone to borrow a sweater. She was the latest victim in their killer's spree. It was too close to the murder of Sara Cutler for Ryan to overlook it. Unfortunately, it had given them very little to move with up to this point.

Admittedly, both Ryan and Sookhold were hoping that talking with Serena's best friend would give them at least a foothold.

So, with a quick flick to Sookhold, both men stood.

"This is Detective Sookhold," Ryan introduced. "Let's take this to the lounge."

* * *

_Quick story note: I've been using most of the cases from the show as if they've still happened in this universe. What I don't want that to mean is that all of the personal stuff has also happened. Like, for example, Ryan's engagement. Well, with some notable exceptions, like 3x22. I'm not sure if I'm going to play with that just yet. And the stuff with Johanna Beckett's case isn't used. _

_This'll make more sense at the beginning of the next installment, I promise. But I needed to say it. _

_Take a minute and leave your thoughts? I may not tell you personally, but I really do appreciate it.  
_


	17. Chapter 17

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 17  
_

. . . . .

The lounge wasn't really the most private place to be talking, but it was the least impersonal. Aubrey sat across from Ryan and Sookhold, shredding a Kleenex.

"Did you notice anything off about Serena, Aubrey?" Ryan asked gently. He hated these. Just as much as the next cop.

Aubrey shrugged. "Not really. I mean… She's always stressed, you know? She's-" The woman stopped herself and sniffled loudly. "Was. She _was_ always stressed." She shook her head, apparently trying to battle back sobs. "I keep thinking this is all a really screwed up nightmare."

Both detectives waited patiently while she collected herself.

"Rina was always stressed," she began again. "She was trying to get into med school on top of volunteering for Habitat for Humanity, Big Sisters… She even helped a few of the old ladies in her building clean their apartments once every couple of weeks. Plus friends and a boyfriend…"

"Boyfriend's name?" Sookhold prodded gently.

"Coop. Cooper. Balogh. They've only been dating about a month. Rina took _forever_ to finally decide to seriously date him." She shrugged again. "I don't know if I blame her though."

Ryan's pen paused in its scribbling. "Oh?" he asked as he felt his heartrate speed up.

Aubrey nodded seriously. "The last one? Before Coop? _Seriously_ creepy."

"Creepy?" Sookhold jumped in.

"Well, not at first," Aubrey admitted. "At first, Rina used to really gush about him, you know? He was sweet, he was charming, he wasn't pushing her to do things she didn't want to do, he was fun, he was hilarious…"

"But things changed." Sookhold surmised.

"Exactly. He started checking up on her. She'd be out with me, out with the girls, out with her family and he's be texting, calling, asking why she wasn't at her apartment, who she was out with… Then it became about why his laundry wasn't done, why she was always doing school work when she could barely cook. I mean… they didn't even live together, you know? She had her own place, he had his… They had their own lives." Aubrey shook her head. "Yeah, Rina burned water, but her dream was med school, not a culinary academy."

"She break up with him?" Sookhold inquired, his heart going out to the woman who quite obviously only had her friend's well-being at heart.

"Eventually, but it took a bit of a catalyst." Her eyes were hard. "But like I said, he was _creepy_. And she recognized it. A little too late."

"He abused her." Sookhold's voice was strong and angry, not that Ryan's thunderous expression was any better.

"Did Rina put up with a lot?" Aubrey began, "Yeah. Because she'd always had self-esteem problems so when he got clingy, possessive, emotionally abusive, I can't say I was surprised. She made it easy in a lot of ways. But she drew the line at physical abuse. She'd seen it before, and she never tolerated it."

Ryan leaned forward. "Guys like him don't just walk away."

Aubrey shook her head. "He stalked her. Called her at work – she's been working at a clinic for, like, eight months – at home, e-mailed her… She changed her number, even moved after one of the e-mails scared her enough. But she had to wait for a tangible threat to do anything. The minute she got that e-mail, she filed a restraining order."

"She ever introduce you?" Ryan asked.

"Once, by accident. But- John was his name. John Smith." She shot them an apologetic look. "I know that's pretty common, but-"

But it already fit with what they had. And Sookhold was fixated on something else entirely. "Would you recognize him?"

"Probably. I've got a good memory for faces. And I had to learn pretty fast because of the stalking and all. Rina kept a diary of it all." Her eyes widened. "You think it could be him? Wow. No wonder-"

"Miss Sedin," Sookhold interrupted firmly. "Do you think you could sit down with a sketch artist?"

Aubrey was nodding, eyes still wide, before he'd even finished the sentence. "Yeah. Of course."

* * *

The sketch didn't break the case wide open, but they released it to be media outlets and set up a tip line. The sketch was the only thing they had in terms of identifying the guy. They'd found burned pictures in Serena's apartment, but none of the ones that survived had showed a man's face. They also released some of the details from Serena Flett's murder, hoping upon hope to get that one all important call. They'd kept the sketch related to Serena's murder only to try and minimize backlash, panic and because they only thing they really had tying Serena to the serial killer was the resemblance of her murder to Sara Cutler's death.

The call didn't come in until early afternoon.

"Ryan."

"Detective Ryan? I called the hotline, they gave me your number." There was silence for a moment as Ryan tried to place which hotline.

"The murder of that girl?"

"Right. And you are?" Ryan inquired, trying not to be short with the man. They'd had a lot of phony tips, a lot of bad calls and no leads. Esposito was still in the Hamptons with Lanie and he could only hope that they weren't busy doing what he wanted to be doing with Jenny right at that moment. But he and Sookhold had drawn the short straw – unfortunate side-effect of having no medical knowledge – and now he was in late.

"Danny Hemlock. Bartender."

"What information do you have?" Ryan asked. He sounded bored. He knew he sounded bored. And probably pissed off. He couldn't help it.

"That officer, the one who got killed, he's a regular, Detective," Danny explained. "He and his buddy sit up at the bar whenever they're in. But here's the thing: his buddy? Looks pretty much like the sketch on the news."

Ryan's heart leapt. "You recognize him?"

"Yeah," Danny replied. "Like I said, he's a regular."

"This regular got a name, Danny?"

There was a pause, some shuffling. "John Smith."

"You know how many John Smiths there are?" Ryan snapped, despite the fact that they now had a pretty tangible connection to Juddoo.

"You know many that have been paying with a credit card?"

Ryan was out of his seat before he'd hung up the phone. "Captain!"

Sookhold, working at the desk across from Beckett's, looked up sharp enough Ryan had a blink-and-you-miss it fear the guy had given himself whiplash.

"Detective."

Ryan would never understand how a man that cared so much about his officers, cared so much about Beckett, could sound so utterly calm. "Call from a bartender who says Juddoo was a regular. Says he always sat with the same guy. A John Smith."

Montgomery's eyes sparked. "Bring him in."

Ryan was already nodding, reaching for his coat. He paused, however, and turned back. "She needs to be in on this takedown," he said, and there was no pretense as to whom he was referring to. "This is hers, Cap. Whatever happens…"

The captain barely even blinked. "Until we get official word or definitive evidence, Detective Beckett is still on suspension," Montgomery said, though there was a spark in his eyes. "Beyond that, it's out of my control."

And, from too many years on the force, Ryan knew exactly what he was being told. If Beckett showed up and made the decision to go in of her own free will and didn't do anything to screw up the investigation – of which there was absolutely no doubt in Ryan's mind – the department was wiping their hands.

Well, Ryan reflected as he and Sookhold made their way purposefully out of the precinct, that certainly made his life easier.

* * *

Despite how fast they'd rolled out, John Smith – and yes, that was his real name – had gone by the time they made it to the bar. But the credit card search provided them with an address. Ryan's phone chimed as he and Sookhold climbed back into the car, Esposito's number on the ID.

"We've got an address," Ryan said in lieu of a greeting.

"We've got a detective ready to get her damned badge back," Esposito replied.

Ryan couldn't help the grin. Beckett was never down long. "We're heading to the apartment now. CSU's already on their way."

"We're half an hour out," Esposito replied glancing back at the expensive car that belonged to Richard Castle. He reached over and squeezed Lanie's hand. "Text me the address."

. . . . .

"I hate it when they pick the nice places," Rick murmured as he and Kate climbed out of the car. From the looks of it, CSU was already hard at work. Ryan's car was there too. Esposito had taken a detour to drop Lanie off at the morgue for her shift.

Yet, Kate paused as she looked at the building. Rick stopped beside her. She spared him a quick glance. "It still doesn't feel right."

She didn't have to say more. Without the official badge, without the authority… It wasn't the same. He pulled her in for a quick squeeze and a kiss to her temple, mindful of the officers milling about and her privacy. "One step at a time."

Together, they stepped into the building and despite the NYPD wandering around, Kate grasped Rick's hand. She didn't let go until they were heading down the hall. Ryan met them at the door, and handed them each a pair of latex gloves.

"I haven't been cleared," Kate said, even as she accepted them and started pulling them on.

Ryan shrugged. "You haven't been convicted either."

The bump of faith was not lost on any of them. So Kate pulled on her gloves, and followed Ryan into the apartment.

"CSU's already found Molly Carroll's pill bottle," Ryan said.

"Guy kept trophies," Rick murmured, eyes shooting around the room at light speed.

It was an open concept, for the most part. Kitchen that fed into a little breakfast nook and the living room. There was a small half bath just to the left of the front door, the bedroom to the right. CSU techs moved in, out and around as they needed to, skilfully avoiding running into each other, furniture and the detectives.

One of the techs popped out of the bedroom, carrying a formal dress. Ryan outright grinned as he looked back at Kate. "Don't think that's his."

It was falling into place. Quickly, easily, efficiently.

"Looks like he tore through this place fast," Rick murmured. It was the only damper to the whole thing. He wandered off, wandered away. Neither Kate nor Ryan thought anything of it. He usually wandered off.

And, as he started shuffling through the notepaper on the table, he found something.

"I've got an address in Brooklyn," he said, holding up the little slip of paper. "Guy _definitely_ didn't think we'd track him down here." With a flourish, he pulled out his phone, typing the address into the GPS before Kate or Ryan could so much as open their mouths to ask. Not that they would have had to. "Brooklyn Navy Yard."

Kate closed her eyes briefly. "Industrial park. Building number?"

Rick handed over the page, still grinning. "280."

"Put that phone to use," she ordered, "Tell me if that building has any empty space." She looked up, meeting the eagerness on Ryan and Esposito's faces. She couldn't fault them. She could practically _taste_ an arrest.

"Ground floor. Empty," Rick finally responded.

The rush went through them all in a split second, but was short-lived.

"Guys," Sookhold called. "Get the captain on the phone."

Kate was the first one in the doorway to the kitchen and she spotted Sookhold, a CSU tech, and the bag he now held. The bag holding a bloody knife. The bloody knife without its tip.

There was a surprising triumphant passion in Sookhold's face as he grinned at them. "I think the NYPD has an apology to make."

* * *

Despite how close they were, and yet, still didn't have John Smith in custody, the heavy weight in the air lifted a little. Kate looked to Rick, their grins the widest of all. She was going to get her badge back. She was going to get her gun back. She was going to get her life back.

Then she was going to takedown the asshole that had tried to take it from her.

Captain Montgomery met them at the warehouse, Kate's gun and badge in hand.

"The paperwork is still going through," he told her solemnly as she strapped into a vest. "But as far as I'm concerned, there shouldn't be any paperwork." He could say it now. And mean it.

Kate paused, blinked, then looked down at hands that had suddenly started shaking. Emotion and adrenaline were blurring her vision and it took her a moment to get herself under control. When she was, she lifted her head and took her weapon from his hands. A few seconds later, Detective Kate Beckett stood there, in all of her glory, hands on hips as she surveyed the chaos around her.

She felt Rick come up beside her before she saw him. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she gripped his arm, pulling him to the other side of her car. It was the closest thing to private they were going to get.

"Listen," she said quietly, earnestly, allowing the Beckett mask to fall away for a moment. "Everything that's happened… Everything we've been through… I don't want you to think that I doubted you." She swallowed as she picked at his 'Writer' vest. He wouldn't be coming in beside her, but she had to admit she felt better knowing he was wearing it. "I never, not once, or ever doubted _you_."

He knew what she was trying to tell him. She'd doubted herself. In the process, yes, she had, in some ways, doubted him too, but at the root of it, it was her faith in herself that wavered. Without her badge and her gun she hadn't been sure of who she was supposed to be, of what she was supposed to do. She'd doubted her own worth and thus, whether she was worth the relationship. "I never, not once, or ever doubted you."

She leaned up and kissed him with everything she was feeling. This was it and she could feel the adrenaline. But she could also feel the fear. They were both afraid. They didn't know what she was walking into. So he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. Eventually, she pulled back completely and refused to look up as she strode away, head held high.

He blew out a breath, a heavy one, and watched her back. He looked over at the heavy hand that rested on his shoulder. Sookhold stood there, looking grim, vest strapped tight. "I'll bring her out," he promised.

Rick sucked in a deep breath. It was difficult to entrust Kate to anyone, but he knew – had known, long before it came to this – that this time he couldn't be there to watch her back.

"You have my word," Sookhold told him solemnly.

"In one piece," Rick replied after a moment. "Bring her back in one piece."

They shook hands. Then Sookhold was heading off, and Rick was left leaning against the trunk of Kate's car. Lanie wandered over, leaning beside him. He tried to offer her a smile.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were at work."

There was a solemnness to Lanie's eyes that told him everything he needed to know. Yeah, she was on shift, but this was bigger than so many things before. Someone would cover for a couple of hours.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, as he watched the cops gather in a tight group. "How do you do it?"

"Cope with this?" Lanie asked for clarification. When he nodded, she shrugged. "Make him swear, on pain of death, to come back afterwards."

"And that works?"

"No," Lanie admitted. "Not at all."

They heaved out identical sighs. Then Lanie turned to him, waiting until he met her gaze.

"I believe in him. I believe in them. I believe that he'll try and get himself out in one piece, and Ryan's going to be there if he can't. I know Ryan, I trust Ryan, and I trust that neither one of them is going to do something insane or stupid." She paused and then went on with words that were surprisingly insightful, even for the woman saying them. "And they need it. They need someone who can step away from what they see day-to-day. Ryan's got Jenny. She's not knee deep in this. Hell, she's not even ankle deep in this. Kate's got you and though you shadow her and you see this… there's still a part of you that just sees a puzzle. There's a part of this that's fun. She needs that."

"And you?"

"I see a body, not a person. I need to. And when I walk through that door at the end of the day, I know I don't have to say what I'm feeling. I know that he's seen the same cases, that he knows how I feel, and I know that he's going to do whatever I need. Sometimes what I need and what he needs are exactly the same thing." Lanie nodded towards Sookhold. "You trust him?"

"He respects her," Rick answered slowly, thinking through the answer. "He can watch her back. He has the training, he has the weapon…"

"That doesn't answer the question," Lanie pointed out wisely. "You like the guy, I can tell that much, but do you trust him? Do you trust him with Kate?"

"I don't know if I have a choice."

"You always have a choice. Javi and Ryan would step in. They'd dog her every step if you asked them to. But you didn't ask them. Which means you trust him more than you let on."

"He went behind his partner's back," Rick replied, watching with eagle eyes. "If there's one thing I've learned about partners in the NYPD, it's that they're sacred. You trust your life to that person, day in and day out, and yet, he believed in Kate's abilities and integrity and went behind his partner's back. That takes guts, it takes courage."

"You don't think he'd do that to Kate?"

"No," Rick admitted, watching one team of cops line up against the door, while the other curved around the corner of the building. "I don't. He respects her, how she does the job."

Lanie reached over, squeezing his hand. "She'll be fine."

Rick couldn't help the knot of fear in his stomach. "She damned well better be."

He still closed his eyes when they went slamming through the door.

* * *

_I was inadvertently (and halaci, it was really my decision) challenged to have this finished by the finale next week. Considering it looks like there's three chapters left and most of them are written I figure this wouldn't be too difficult of a challenge to meet. Plus, we all know there's going to be a slew of fic after next week's finale and _who knows_ where everyone's brain's going to be at. _

_Selfishly, I want to get back to the Lanie-Esposito. Which is the next installment. I think. _

_I've tweaked this a million times and I'm so not comfortable with it. I think because so much of it is case-focused so it feels really fast in comparison to the rest of the story. But I can't tweak it anymore… Bah. But, how I feel about it is irrelevant if you guys like it?_


	18. Chapter 18

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 18_

. . . . .

Even as she slammed into the empty ground floor of Building 280, she was cursing the cliché. Why did every murderer have to hide in some dingy, warehouse? Why couldn't they take a nice, sunny house in the suburbs?

Because that was even creepier.

That was all she had time to think about. Bullets rained down on them and they all took cover quicker than she could blink. She vaguely heard Ryan calling for an EMT, but her mind was focused on something else entirely.

On the blur that had gone up a stairwell at the back of the building.

Much to her surprise, she heard footsteps following as she made her way skilfully towards the steps. She glanced at Sookhold as he followed her lead, flatting himself against the other side of the stairwell doorway.

"Told him I'd bring you out in one piece," he said quietly, simply.

And despite the fact that she didn't necessarily know the guy all that well, Kate found herself smiling, if only briefly.

"There's eight floors to the building," Sookhold murmured as they took to the stairs. "This is the only empty one. Twenty-four hours security and surveillance."

Kate didn't bother to tell him it wasn't all that helpful, but they both hugged the wall as shooting began again. Sookhold's eyes were closed when she glanced his way.

"I give him three floors," he told her.

"You can tell that in here?" Kate shot back, her own voice low as she started up the stairs.

"Call it an educated guess," he retorted.

A door opened and closed above them and Kate barely resisted the urge to let out an angry groan. They raced up the stairs. "We'll have to start here, work our way up," she said in a low murmur.

"Best we can do," he agreed. "I'll go in low."

They swept the third floor with surprising efficiency before hitting the fourth. It wasn't until the fifth that they ran into problems. He'd broken into one of the suites filled with drawing boards, and office space. There was no way to tell where he was, where he'd gone, and if he was even still in the suite. But both Sookhold and Kate knew they had to check it. With a couple of quick hand signals, they split up.

Then next few minutes Kate spent silently stalking through the carpeted office space, gun drawn, senses alert.

But quite obviously, not alert enough

Her gun went skittering with a well placed hit to the back of her head, but Kate barely paid attention. Instead, she went with instincts. Her elbow connected sharply with something tough, but definitely human. The nausea was building from the whack to her head, but she fought. Hard. She had his gun arm, was aiming for the pressure point, and found herself flying. She landed with an oomph and the feeling of the breath rushing out of her lungs. If she could just –

"Freeze, bitch."

Kate did as she was told, half out of reflex, half because she knew that whomever was talking meant serious business. Her gun was inches away, but something told her reaching for it was a death sentence. So instead, she raised her head, slowly, carefully.

And met cold, green eyes.

The smile that followed was cruel and brutal. "Well, well, well. Detective Beckett. You don't know how much pleasure I'm going to take in ending you. Permanently."

She saw his finger twitch, saw it start to flex and knew she had a split second.

A split second was long enough.

A strong male arm wrapped around the man's neck just as he squeezed the trigger and Kate rolled with stunning alacrity. The bullet missed her by less than inches. She arched her body and tilted her head back to see Sookhold slowly lowering their perp to the floor. So she stood, picking up her weapon and kicking the other one away. The man flailed and flailed until he fell unconscious.

Kate eyed Sookhold as she tossed him her cuffs. "The hell was that?"

"I told you," he replied, snapping the cuffs on. "Martial arts king. Hands down."

Their eyes met over the unconscious body and they both grinned.

"Okay," he admitted. "Military family. Dad taught me everything I know."

"You know," Kate began as she holstered her weapon. "You're not too bad for a makeshift partner."

Sookhold grinned wider as he holstered his own gun. "You know, you're not that bad either."

* * *

On the outside, it went a little bit different.

Rick grabbed Lanie's hand at the first shot.

When the windows broke, they both jumped.

Lanie buried her face in Rick's arm when the shots continued. He could feel her vibrating.

Then came silence. The odd shot.

Silence again.

Then the group of three that was helping a limping Esposito out of the warehouse.

Rick, reacting instinctively, wrapping his arm around Lanie as she jumped forward. EMTs were on scene – thank God the threat level was high enough to require that - and Esposito was led over immediately.

"Castle, let me go."

Rick could see the tears in Lanie's eyes, but he refused, hoping upon hope someone would come by. Soon. He was worried. He could only imagine what was going on in Lanie's head.

Finally, Ryan jogged over.

"He's fine," Ryan assured them as he got close enough. "Bullet went through the shoulder. EMTs say it's not bleeding enough to have hit something vital, but they'll take him to the hospital anyway." He reached out and rested a hand on Lanie's shoulder. "He's going to be fine."

"He's going to be cranky," Rick quipped.

But Lanie hadn't relaxed against Rick's arm. "What the hell happened?"

The guilt flashed across Ryan's face. "Guy started shooting," he said, and Rick could see him grab for some sort of stability. "I don't know if he deliberately did it willy-nilly or if he wasn't aiming to kill anyone other than Beckett but-"

"She's dead?"

Ryan shook his head. "No. She's in there. With the rest of the tactical team. And Sookhold."

Rick swallowed.

Ryan turned back to Lanie. "Don't rag on Javier, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair. "It was my fault. I should have been watching."

The anger deflated out of Lanie and Rick released her, still watching for Kate's dark head as the ME jogged away with Ryan. He vaguely heard Lanie demanding that she ride with Esposito and smiled slightly despite himself. Lanie and Esposito. He shook his head slightly, kind of surprised at the match.

Then he focused on the more important things.

Where the hell was she?

He continued to stand anxiously, by himself, as he waited with a patience he couldn't believe. He wanted to race into the building, was _dying_ to race into the building, but there was a bigger part that knew this was Kate's battles. He'd tried to fight them long enough. But catching the guy was her arena, her comfort zone. And he had to trust Sookhold to have her back this time.

Ryan came jogging over again, face triumphant, phone pressed to his ear. "Got it. Yeah. Hang on." He grinned as he handed the phone over.

"Hello?"

It was Kate's voice, strong if tired, floating over the phone. "We got him."

* * *

John Smith – his real name, much to everyone's shock – sat silently in the interrogation room hours later, his eyes fixed on the table. Kate watched from observation, psyching herself up to go in there, to take him on. Here was a man who had almost cost her the badge she held so dear. As objective as she wanted to be, she knew she wasn't. She sighed, heavily and loudly and thanked every being alive that no one was in the room to see her. It was a rare moment of weakness that Kate hated to show in the precinct. At home, with Rick, no problem – anymore. Here? Completely different story.

She glanced over as the door opened and Rick stepped in, closing it behind him. "You ready?" he asked in a low murmur.

She shook her head and they both knew it had nothing to do with Rick's question. "He doesn't look like the serial killer type."

"They have a type?"

She smiled at him, briefly. "When this is over, can we go back to Boston?"

"Of course," he responded with a very wide smile. Usually he had to coerce her into vacations. And he was glad this time. Despite the reassurances that the blow – thankfully and shockingly – hadn't resulted in a concussion, Rick was antsy to get her to rest. He wasn't stupid enough to try and talk her into doing it now.

"Okay." She nodded once, then grabbed the lapels of his jacket and kissed him soundly. "Let's go break this bastard."

She picked up the file.

John's mouth was open the minute she opened the door. "I have no idea why I'm here."

She shot him a look that made stronger men cower. "Really, John? You're going to go with the 'it wasn't me' defense?" She slammed her portfolio, file and all, on the metal table, relishing the ring. "You shot at cops!"

"Honest mistake," he replied, though Kate noticed he hadn't jumped at her outburst. Cool as a cucumber. Which was fine with her. Part of the reason she was so damned effective in an interrogation room was because she knew how to adapt.

"You're deaf too then, I take it?" Rick was no so well-versed. Though, Kate realized, there was still tension in every line of his body. Sometimes when they were on the job, she forgot how big his heart really was. Lanie was suffering, despite the fact that Esposito had been stitched up and sent home. He was on regular painkillers and probably hurt like nothing else. And that didn't even start with what the man sitting smugly across the table had put Kate through. "'Cause when I hear NYPD, I generally put my hands up."

She wanted to snark back at him, just to lighten the mood, but this wasn't the time, nor the place. Plus, she had her own angry vendettas to deal with.

Instead, she let out a long-suffering sigh. "John, you shot a cop. You're on the hook for that. Why don't you make it easier on all of us and just start talking?"

"Because I wouldn't be in here if the cop were dead."

Ah. Crazy. Just the way she wanted to end her day. She pulled out Serena's picture. "Serena Flett. Know her?"

He glanced at the picture. "Nope."

"Uh huh. Wrong answer there, Johnny," Rick taunted with a grin. Then he leaned forward, as if they were having a man-to-man moment. "I'll tell you a secret. Detective Beckett doesn't really care for liars. You might just want to stick to the truth."

John shrugged. "I might know her."

"You dated her," Kate said brusquely. "For almost eight months before she dumped your ass."

The words had the desired effect. His eyes darkened, went just a little maniac. "She didn't dump me."

"Oh, so it was mutual then," Kate said flipping through. "See, the way I heard it, she finally realized you didn't have squat. Had to smack her around to keep her in line, didn't you."

"Women flock to me." John leaned back, arms crossed. Classic defensive.

So, naturally, Kate pushed. "Like Linda." She slid Linda's picture out of the folder and towards John.

He snorted. "Bridesmaid. Fish in a barrel."

Kate knew there was at least a piece of Rick smiling smugly. "Well, you had to do something after you struck out with the concierge."

The anger surfaced just a little bit more; the 'crazy eyes' Rick talked so much about. "She was _working_. She didn't have time because she was _working_."

"Some women do that," Kate responded, her eyebrow arching. Admittedly, she didn't feel like she could get a handle on John. Quite obviously, insanity was mixing with misogyny some how. But she knew they still held the trump cards. She wanted a confession, wanted to play his ego until he gave them everything. She didn't want him to find a way to slip out of the noose and she sure as hell wanted to prove that nothing, _nothing_ was going to break her.

"Some women don't realize how good they've got it," John snapped. "Take you. All high and mighty with your badge and gun. Tell me, how did it feel to have it all stripped away?"

A million emotions raced through Kate, but she clamped down on them hard. She saw Rick's knuckles go white out of the corner of her eye. He wanted to touch her. She wanted to touch him. But they had an interrogation to finish. "It feels like you failed," she finally managed to say.

It was the proverbial straw. John leaned forward, grinning in pride even through the hatred and disgust in every line of his body. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to take a life, Detective?"

Of course she did. And she always hated it, though she had a feeling that, in this case, he wasn't exactly referring to the literal sense.

"Watching that last light spark, the realization that they're not going to make it. Do you know how much _power_ that gives you? Molly..." Then he frowned. "She wasn't awake for it. And she took _too damned long_."

"So you learned." The words came softly, from Rick.

"Linda… struggled. Oh, did she struggle." His eyes lit on Kate. "You were right, Detective. She was a little bit of an opportunity. Dumb bitch of a concierge wouldn't stop her _job_. As if that's her real worth to the world." He snorted. "Please."

"But you shot Daniela Vittorini."

John released an exaggerated sigh. "She was just so _clingy_. Needy. Attention, gifts, fancy dinners…" He looked to Rick. "I'm sure you know the type."

Rick didn't hold back his shrug of agreement.

"And Serena? As if a restraining order was enough to hold me back. She should have known better." He shook his head, condescension obvious. "I did everything for her. And she runs after one little fight."

"So you killed her with an axe."

He grinned. "Seemed like a good idea."

"One more question," Kate said softly, terribly disturbed by the man sitting across from her. She'd known arrogance would be his downfall the minute she saw him sitting across that table. She hadn't quite expected what she got. The psychologists were going to have a field day when they got a hold of him. "Why me?"

John leaned forward. "Because you were there."

"What?" Rick blurted. After all of that careful elegance of the work he'd done, and it was all because Kate was just _there_? Where was the story in that?

"You were there," John repeated. "Every time I turned my head. The news, the paper, the gossip columns… _Everywhere_. All the time. Thinking you were… the _best_. But you're just like every other bitch."

Kate shook her head, disgusted. "And what? Juddoo just… dropped into your lap?"

"Into my bar, actually," the psychopath chirped happily. "I was sitting there, enjoying a drink after a long day… You were on screen. A case. Your first one after the shooting in Miami. And they were praising you, the perfect Detective Beckett, foiling another plan to get away with murder. And so soon after fighting for her life in a hospital!" He shrugged. "Jay was there, grumbling about it, and that's when I knew. I had the perfect way to make them see there was nothing to you, that you were no different than the broken cop sitting next to me in a bar."

The verbal blows bounced off Kate. She grinned, predatorily, and copied his lean forward. "Well, John… You were wrong."

The smile fell off his face. "What?"

Rick's grin widened with Kate's. "CSU found Brevibloc in your apartment," he began. "The prescription matches the one missing from Molly Carroll. Your first souvenir."

"It took us a while to figure out you were keeping them," Kate added, then cocked her head to the side. "No, that's a lie. We didn't know you were keeping them. But it ties you rather firmly to Molly Carroll's murder." She shrugged. "Your prints were all over the bottle, it was her prescription and we know that's what killed her."

The smile that had started to blossom over John's face at her honesty faded with the first nail in his criminal coffin.

Rick nodded, picking up where she left off. "Eyewitnesses put you in the lobby with Linda Jax." He nodded to John's hands. "And now that your DNA is in the system, we should be able to get a clean swab off the sexual assault kit we did." He tilted his head to the side. "She was a beautiful woman, I can see how you couldn't resist."

"Daniela Vittorini is my favourite," Kate continued. She reached out and took Rick's hand, her eyes sparkling in a mask of absolute adoration. "Our first case."

He hummed in response putting on his own mask of the doting lover. "Social worker, shot, sprinkled with red rose petals… Romantic. Even the blood is red. It's the sunflowers that really gives it the literary touch."

"And the serial killer one," Kate agreed. "Except your killer didn't leave fingerprints." She turned back to John with a shrug. "Neither did Tisdale when he killed his sister." She grinned at him. "But you… you weren't quite that slick. Get too cocky, John?" They also had the gun from his apartment, and a receipt for the roses and sunflowers.

John could feel the anger flooding through him, the blind rage.

"Detective Juddoo though…" Rick clucked his tongue. "That was ballsy."

"You beat Juddoo up pretty bad," Kate murmured. "But our ME is better. One kill shot's a pretty specific MO." She leaned back, settling when Rick ghosted his hand down her thigh out of John's eyeline. "Good choice, to pick my mother's case, by the way. But you left a little piece of your knife behind."

"Don't worry, we found your knife. The tip still fits perfectly so we can put Humpty Dumpty back together again," Rick quipped.

"But… You asked me why I did it. You needed me to confess! You had nothing!"

"Au contraire, Mister Smith," Rick grinned.

Kate leaned forward, triumphant in her win. "We had everything."

* * *

_So, here's what I hope:_

_1) I hope John comes across as a real crazy person. If you're confused, it's kind of excellent because I really didn't give him anything other than crazy-logic. _

_2) I hope this chapter worked for you guys. Statement of fact (not an apology) the first half of the interrogation scene bothers me. Like the last chapter, I've tweaked it a million times and come up with nothing. How annoying is that?_

_3) I hope you'll let me know if I'm missing something or if you guys have any lingering questions. The next scene is the 'wrap up' so if I'm missing something or haven't addressed it, don't hesitate to ask or point it out. There is still time. _

_I think that's everything I can think of off the top of my head. Other than, of course, the fact that typos and errors are mine. Oh, and reviews are candy coated chocolate chips. Or rainbow chip icing!_


	19. Chapter 19

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Chapter 19_

. . . . .

Lanie was puttering.

Javier found it odd, honestly. Lanie was someone who was deliberate. She was methodical both in work and outside of work. But for the life of him, he couldn't seem to stop her from moving about. She'd done his dishes, stripped his bed and made it again, cleaned up every bit of clutter in his apartment. It was driving him a bit nuts.

"Cari, sit."

She shook her head. She hadn't spoken a word since she'd brought him home from the hospital. They'd stitched up his shoulder, given him some mild painkillers and sent him home. It would take time to heal and knit the muscle back together, but it had been a surprisingly clean shot that had done nothing more then the muscle damage.

Lucky, he'd been called.

But it was painfully obvious that Lanie thought something different.

Logically, he knew he couldn't blame her. He worked a dangerous job. He went into terrible situations. The fact that they were together was, by nature, asking a lot of her. He couldn't help that. And she knew what she was getting into when she chose him. They both knew that. Javier also knew that didn't make things easier.

All he could do was roll his eyes and try again.

"Lain. Really. Sit."

She just shook her head again. Saying absolutely nothing. She was rearranging his kitchen, putting plates on lower shelves, stacking them in shorter piles on lower shelves. He understood the torture, in a way. If she stopped, she'd have to think of everything. She'd have to think about the bullet, and about the shootout. She'd have to think of her girl, and her man. Javier couldn't begrudge her putting it off.

But he was also achy and fidgety. He would never admit it out loud – they'd revoke his Man Card – but after all of that, he just wanted Lanie.

Because that wasn't terrifying in its own right.

So instead he sighed, pushing himself up off the couch with his good arm and heading to the kitchen. His apartment wasn't that big, so it was only six or seven steps, but Lanie's shoulders tensed with every footfall. He was undaunted and undeterred. Holding this in and bottling it up would do neither of them any good.

She was reaching for the mugs when he caught her hand. "Cari."

"Don't."

It was one word, harsh in the little they'd said. Still, he gripped her wrist, refusing to let her go. "You can't do this."

"Do what?"

Javier sighed, finally losing some of that carefully cultivated patience. "You can't bottle this up, Lanie. I know you."

"Then you know why I have to keep doing this."

He also knew she was stubborn as hell. So he stomped, hard, on his irritation and went for the one thing he was pretty sure would kick her in the gut. "Cari," he all but purred. "I need you to come sit with me."

The words were a deliberate choice.

"I've had a rough day. Even got shot. And right now, I just want to sit with you."

He took absent pride in the fact that no one would believe her if Lanie ever told them how much of a softie he could be. And less absent pride in the way her shoulders deflated.

"Talk to me," he said quietly, dropping her wrist and reaching out for her.

Lanie stepped closer, her hands coming up to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. "God, Javi. I was _terrified_!"

His good hand came up to cup her cheek, stroking over the bone with his thumb. There was so much in his eyes, enough to make Lanie's heart jump. "I was, too."

So, on a shuddering breath, she managed to tell him, "I love you."

"I can't tell if I'm over the moon that you told me or if I'm high," he responded with a dazzling smile.

She didn't snark back. She hadn't exactly meant to say the words but it was even more terrifying the longer he _didn't_.

He caught on quick. "Don't doubt me, Cari."

"I don't," she whispered.

"Then why are you doubting I love you, too?"

The air whooshed out of her chest on a part-sigh. "Because you weren't telling me, you dolt."

"I'm telling you now."

Lanie took his hand, cradling it between her own as she smiled up at him. "Yeah. Yeah you are."

* * *

It took them a few days to tie up all the loose ends.

For Kate, this was spectacular. It seemed like IAB was dragging it's heels, waiting for the perfect moment when the case had died down enough for them to make a big deal. It was an arrogant thought, but considering how thoroughly they'd essentially disgraced her, and the sheer number of times she was told she was one of the best, Kate wasn't sure she could put it past them.

It was good for all of them anyway. Montgomery had ordered them home for forty-eight hours after the case, and when they'd come back, there was so much paperwork to clear up, Montgomery had deferred cases to other teams.

So when Lieutenant Lacrosse walked off the floor with the Chief of Police, Kate knew what was coming.

Rebecca Hall and Detective Sookhold walked with them, and Kate initially bristled. Rick drew her attention with a gentle grasp of the wrist.

"It was the best the captain could do," he murmured. "If the Chief had his way, it would be a full arsenal with a press conference."

Kate shivered. "You knew?"

He paused, with enough time to make her worry. "I figured," he said eventually. "I, uh… may have talked to the captain about it. Which is how I know about the press conference."

"Plus," Ryan spoke up from where he'd come to stand next to her. Esposito was still off, probably at home in his apartment, with his injured shoulder. "We owed Rebecca an exclusive anyway."

That story was one Kate was now familiar with. She offered the reporter a genuine smile as she and Sookhold made their way towards her. The Chief and Lieutenant Lacrosse headed to the captain's office. Kate sighed and fidgeted, then stood and headed to the break room. It was driving her nuts, really, to just sit there and wait. She didn't want to watch the conversation because despite everything she'd done, everything their team had done, there was still a pessimistic piece of her that was terribly concerned this wasn't about getting her job back.

For Rick, it was surprisingly perfect timing.

Because while she'd been sulking, puttering, relaxing, dealing with the aftermath, he'd been plotting. Really, it was Montgomery who had come to him first, asking if maybe Kate would consider having an honest to God partner again. She did work better solo, but she and Rick were partners in everything but NYPD officiated paperwork and she managed to get along with him.

And Detective Sookhold was missing one.

So Rick had mulled it over for a day, considering how Kate would react, trying to decide if it was the right decision… He knew she needed someone actually trained. He was no slouch, and he'd gone into enough dangerous situations with her to know the ropes, but he also knew that his next book was due to come out. For the first time in a long time his job was going to conflict with hers. He'd have to take time away from the precinct. Hell, Gina and Paula were still mulling over a European trip, or at least South American. He was battling for North America only.

Either way, the touring would take him away from the precinct and he wasn't sure he was completely comfortable with the idea of Kate having only Ryan and Esposito. It wasn't that they didn't make an awesome team, but Ryan and Esposito had each other to look out for. At least, in some ways, when Rick was there, they knew someone was looking after Kate's back. If he wasn't… Well, he just didn't want their attention divided any more than they needed to be.

But the kicker had been simple: Sookhold had brought her out.

Kate had told him the story of Sookhold saving her life and Rick was indebted to the man, in a sense. It was those kinds of situations he was thinking about when Montgomery had approached him to warm Kate to the idea of an honest to goodness NYPD-trained partner.

Rick shrugged. "Why not?"

She rested a hand on his arm, drawing his attention from his fancy coffee machine. She stepped closer, in removing the cup too and setting it on the nearby counter. He drew her into his arms, taking advantage.

"I already have a partner," she said quietly, kissing him softly. "A partner that does a hell of a lot more than just crack jokes and play the class clown."

He grinned. Wide. He knew he did more than that, knew that he contributed to theory building and the like. She could have kicked him out, and probably would have, long ago if she too didn't recognize what he did contribute. "I appreciate the sentiment, Detective," he said, voice low and warm. "But your partner is going to have to take some time off in the fall. I'd appreciate it if there was someone else watching your back."

"Take a break?" Kate asked, leaning away, but not stepping out of his embrace. "What are you talking about?"

"My book," he reminded her, leaning down. "Paula and Gina have been working out a schedule for my publicity tour around book release time. Unless you're planning on taking time off to come with me?" He knew the answer was no, long before she shook her head. He didn't hold it against her. She did very important work and this whole case had shown them both just how big of a deal it was, not only to her, but because her job was so intricately woven into who she was.

"Then you need someone to watch your back while I'm gone and," he went on when she opened her mouth. "I trust the boys with your life all the time, but I would feel more comfortable if you had a _real_ partner so you didn't have to steal someone else's for backup."

She searched his gaze. "You're serious about this."

"Well, kind of," he admitted. He sighed. "He lost a partner, Kate. Despite how… evil Jason Juddoo was, he was still Sookhold's partner."

"So this is out of guilt?"

"Ha! No. Only you, my mother and my daughter seem to be able to make me feel guilty." He slipped a hand under her loose blouse, unable to stop himself. "Think of it this way: you won't have to train a new partner. We worked well together, all of us."

"You won't feel like a fifth wheel?" she inquired.

Rick pressed a playful kiss to her nose. "No. Well, sometimes, probably. Just don't start weaving tales like we do and we'll be fine."

"If he's going to be my partner, we're going to be developing theories together," Kate responded.

He rolled his eyes. "Kate, Sookhold lost a partner," he tried to explain again. Teamwork was so important to them. The family that came along with it was irreplaceable. He smiled, tucking her hair more firmly behind her ear just for the excuse to touch her. "You have a partner, yes, but you guys worked well together."

She was silent for a moment, eyeing him. "Montgomery sent you to convince me to take Sookhold as a partner."

"I'll never tell," he sing-songed with a grin.

She didn't need him to confirm it. It was in his eyes. She sighed. "Do I get a trial period?"

"You've already had it," he responded. "You don't need it, Kate and you know it. The boys like him. I trust him to watch your back."

And that was big coming from him. If there was one thing she'd learned in their time together, it was that when Rick loved, he loved deeply and with everything. She meant the world to him. For him to say that he trusted someone else to keep her safe, someone he'd only known a couple of months and only in a professional capacity… it was a big nod in Sookhold's direction.

"On one condition," she answered finally, removing the coffee mug from his hand and setting me on the counter.

"I'm listening," he shot back, following her every move.

"I've had a really long day," she said. "A really long month really."

"Couple of months," he put in.

"And all I want to do right now is curl up on the couch with wine and a crappy movie we both pretend we don't like," she continued, wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned up to his ear. "I want to fall asleep against your shoulder half way through the movie. Then, when the movie's over, I want to wake up to your mouth on my skin before you carry me up to bed." She leaned back, then broke away, taking one step back to lean against the counter. "What do you think?"

As if she even had to ask.

But, it would have to wait.

They both looked up at movement in the doorway to find the captain standing there.

"A minute? Both of you."

Despite the fact that she was pretty sure this was going to end in her favour, Kate took Rick's hand. She needed the comfort he provided and the strength he'd shown her she could take from him. Just in case. Because she couldn't shut up that treacherous part of her.

She was surprised to find Lieutenant Lacrosse standing front and center. The Chief was off to one side, Ryan, Sookhold and Rebecca all grinning on the other. Kate relaxed, at least marginally. Her team would be right angry if this wasn't about returning her brass.

"Detective Beckett," the lieutenant drew her attention.

Kate released Rick's hands to step in front of her.

"On behalf of the NYPD, we would like to _officially_ return your hardware."

Since Montgomery had had to take them back until she was officially reinstated, Kate slowly, carefully and with more than a touch of reverence, took the offered items from the IAB officer.

"Off the record," the lieutenant spoke up before any one else could do so much as step up to congratulate her. "Taking these away from you was an error in judgement, though one that couldn't be helped." She met Kate's eyes. "Your statement went a long way in clearing you. I'm glad you were willing to cooperate."

Kate actually smiled as she shook the woman's hand. "I'm glad you weren't on a witchhunt."

Lacrosse echoed her smile. "It's hard to pretend to do that when you're facing a cop such as yourself."

And that was all that needed to be said. Kate had known the minute Montgomery took away her badge that she would have to get her story on record early, before it could be spun out of control. Quite obviously, it had worked in her favour.

"Detective," the chief drew her attention. "It's an honour to have to back with us."

When both officials left, the hugging began. First, it was Rick, who enveloped her in his arms, lifting her clean off the ground to spin her in a circle. Then came the captain, who, Kate was only slightly surprised to see, was a little misty eyed. She hugged him just a little tighter, trying to tell him she understood what he'd had to do, and she didn't hold it against him. Even Ryan hugged her, though Sookhold opted for a firm shake and a wide smile.

Montgomery cleared his throat before they all cleared out. He glanced to Rick, who nodded imperceptivity. "There is one more thing I would like to address," he said.

Kate raised an eyebrow.

"It seems," the captain began, "we have two officers here without partners."

Kate and Sookhold glanced at each other, one in understanding, the other in surprised shock.

"I've talked to your captain," Montgomery went on, directing the statement at Sookhold, "and if you put in a request, we'll transfer you to the Twelfth. And Detective Beckett's team."

Sookhold felt the shock race through him. Just yesterday, as he was doing his paperwork, he'd been thinking about how he'd missed the unique hustle and bustle of the Twelfth. His own precinct had seemed too quiet in comparison. And he'd sure as hell missed the coffee maker in the break room. But he'd never expected this.

"Detective Beckett does not have a partner assigned," Montgomery continued when no one spoke. "Detective Sookhold has shown himself capable of doing the work you do, Beckett, and shouldering the burden admirably."

"Yes," Sookhold blurted, surprised at how excited he sounded. He'd wanted to play it cool for Pete's sake! So he cleared his throat. "I can file the transfer by end of shift."

"Excellent," Montgomery said with a smile. "That's all, Detectives."

Kate reached out for Rick's hand as they exited the room. Her eyes were sultry, a surprise considering they were still at the precinct."

"Come on, Rick," she said. "You have a promise to fulfill."

Rick managed a cheerful wave at Ryan over his shoulder. He felt light and by the ease with which Kate moved, she too had discarded a heavy burden. In some ways, it was like the Smith case had never happened. Everything was as it should be.

. . . . .

Mark blinked as he stepped out of Captain Montgomery's office. He'd wanted to see Beckett officially get her badge and gun back for his own peace of mind. It felt like a system reboot, a beta version that corrected bugs in the software. She was good, and the little time he'd had as a member of her team had showed him that.

But he hadn't anticipated being asked to be a part of it. The bullpen blurred around him as he made his way to the desk that had been 'his' while on the case, and would probably officially be his once the wheels of bureaucracy finished killing a few trees.

"How does it fit?"

Mark looked up, surprised that Rebecca sounded actually nervous. The reinstatement was the last of Rebecca's puzzle pieces for her article on the case, and he hadn't minded her tagging along. In fact, it had been good to see her again.

"Really well," he answered.

"Looks good on you," Rebecca agreed.

They feel silent and Mark caught Rebecca fidgeting nervously. "Something on your mind? Everything's okay with your article?"

Rebecca shook her head, a smile blossoming. "The article's good. Fine. I got huge commendations from my editor what I've turned in. Now it's just adding this to round it out." And had conveniently kept how key a role she'd played to herself, Mark was sure. It was one thing he'd learned about the spunky woman: she didn't take credit and often downplayed her abilities, despite the cutthroat job she'd chosen.

"Then I'm confused."

The nervousness came back full force and for a few moments, Mark was sure she was going to pass out.

"Will you go to dinner with me?"

He arched an eyebrow despite himself. But he wasn't an idiot either. "Like a date?" he asked slowly, just to clarify, of course.

"Yeah," she responded, chewing her lip. "Like a date."

Mark paused. "Yes." Then waited a beat. "Now?"

Rebecca was blinking, as if she was shocked by the whole thing. "Um… Yeah. I, uh…" She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. "I can do now."

"Great." Then he paused, tilting his head to the side. "Actually, let's do tonight?" He was raised to do first dates right. He couldn't just take her out while he was still on shift. Beckett was one thing, but he had something to prove now. Just a little.

"Yeah," Rebecca agreed, still winded and a bit shocked. "Yeah. That sounds good."

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

She just nodded. He wanted to smile, but he was a bit afraid she was going to make fun of him. "Rebecca?"

"Right," she said shaking her head. "Right. Tonight. Seven."

Then she was heading off. Mark let the chuckle escape and couldn't wipe the grin off his face. It was one of the best days he'd had in a while.

He'd gotten the transfer he'd never thought he would be even considered for and he'd just been asked out by a pretty girl.

All in all, Mark had to say things were definitely looking up.

* * *

_You guys have no idea how happy it makes me to have managed to get this done for today. See, it's my birthday, and I didn't think I'd get a chance to write today. Which is kind of funny when you think it's my birthday and I should be able to do what I want right? But what I also want is to celebrate, so I didn't think I'd get a chance to sit down with this. But I did! So I'm posting on my birthday and it makes me stupid happy._

_Now, we really haven't gotten to the Caskett reason this story exists. Well, that's not true, because I told you guys it exists because I caught myself wondering what would happen if Kate lost her badge. Which is true. So… the relationship milestone. Because each of the stories in this series has a relationship milestone at the end and this one's no different. I'll give brownie points to those of you who guess what it is!_

_There is one thing I do want to justify, kind of. I think Rick and Kate are fantastic partners, and I don't want to belittle what he does do and how he does it. At the same time, there's been no indication that he has the police training or the tactical training, and even on the show we wouldn't have seen him going into the building for the arrest. Rick and Kate are partners, in this universe too, but I think there is a serious part of Rick that understands he's not a cop and he can't go into the situations Ryan and Esposito can. I do hope a) that makes sense and b) it comes across in the actual scene itself._

_PS: Yes, I'm aware the likelihood of Sookhold's transfer happening that way may not be high, but we're going to stretch our literary minds on this one, kay? 'Cause I really like the idea and it's my universe that I'm playing in. As much as I do my best to make it believable, there are some things that don't necessarily need to follow the real world. I'm going to claim this one under that column. _

_So, just the epilogue left. Then I'm thinking of combining the Esplanie and Caskett (I hate those names, but I'm too lazy to type out the couples) into one. Theoretically they happen simultaneously, at least in the little universe calendar in my head, but I'm not sold on it just yet. I'm still just toying with it. _


	20. Chapter 20

Around the World Book Four

**Escape to New England  
**

_Epilogue_

. . . . .

Like he'd promised, the minute Kate had cleared a week's worth of vacation time, they packed up the Lexus and headed to Boston. Jim was more than happy to join them again and since Alexis had finished her first year at Princeton, there was never a question as to her attendance either. Even Martha had taken time out of a busy Broadway schedule to spend a few days with them.

For Kate, it was a testament to everything they'd been through.

She'd learned a lot in the past couple of months, about herself, and, more importantly about her family. It had been just her and her father for so long, and despite how close they were, there was a lot of Kate's life that neither of them wanted to talk about. No father wanted his daughter as a cop, not really. She knew her dad was proud of her, knew he'd never ask her to walk away, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. So Kate didn't talk to her father about her work. But this time around, she hadn't had much of a choice. And she knew she was better for it.

Now she had more. Now she had an extended family. She had Rick and Alexis and Martha. Alexis had dropped everything to come spend time with them in Boston. Rick had done everything in his power to try and get her back to where she needed to be. He'd been more than integral in putting her back together again, enough to get back in the game and arrest their criminal. And there was something so special about Alexis, about how far they'd come in a year. From fighting at the Hamptons, to having exactly the right words to say, it spoke of the growth both women had gone through and Kate valued and treasured that more than Alexis probably knew. Because she knew the Castles were a package deal and no one, _no one_, was going to come between that.

But she'd been added to it and Kate knew it. If anything, she'd realized that while Rick and Alexis were inseparable, she'd become a key part of their everyday lives.

She'd changed too. Not completely, and not necessarily noticeably, but the fact that she was willing to ask for a week of vacation spoke to where she was in her life. She needed it, and she'd been the one to request it. It was like, in a way, she was more aware of what her body needed, what her mind needed and what her relationship needed. And sometimes, that meant her professional self had to take second fiddle to her personal one.

She still rose early, even on vacation, because she always had. So, the last sunny Sunday they had in Boston, she was, as usual, up and spread over the island counter. There was a steaming mug of coffee at her elbow and the paper spread in front of her.

She loved mornings like this.

Rick was a notoriously late sleeper, despite how much he griped about the bed being cold without her. Jim and Alexis had headed out for bagels while Martha took a page from her son – or vice versa – and enjoyed a late morning lie-in.

Still, the smile blossomed large over her face as she heard Rick padding into the kitchen. She stayed seated with her back to him, absently counting the steps until he ended up behind her. He brushed her hair away from her neck and kissed her shoulder gently.

"Good morning, Detective."

She grinned wider. He'd greeted her like that every morning since her badge had been returned and despite the fact that she'd been without her badge and title for less than a week, it still sent a thrill through her. "Good morning, Writer."

God, she was living a cliché.

Rick had already moved around the island for the coffee pot. Even he had to admit it was one of the big advantages in loving a woman who was an early riser. There was almost always coffee and breakfast ready if she decided to get up. After all, there was the odd morning she stayed curled against him instead.

"Anything exciting in today's paper?"

He took his characteristic position across the island from her, leaning on his elbows, his cup cradled between his hands.

Kate released a noncommittal noise. "Nothing to write home about," she admitted. She looked up. "My dad and your daughter are out getting breakfast."

"Ooh! From that bagel place down the street?"

She laughed, rather hard considering his statement wasn't all that funny. But he took it in, because a couple of weeks ago, he'd been sure he'd never see it again. Yet here she was, relaxed, normal, and confident in herself again.

Beautiful.

And he knew that this was _it._

He was around the island in a flash and out of the room while Kate watched surprised. He didn't often move that fast unless there was danger or entertainment involved and she turned on her stool as he raced past her

"Rick?"

But he'd disappeared. She shook her head. It wasn't unusual. He often disappeared to just write when inspiration struck. She went back to the comics, chuckling to herself when she found something particularly funny. She heard his footsteps on the wooden floor as he came back towards her.

"Peanuts is hilarious this week," she told him, sliding the paper his way. When he didn't reply, she looked up at him. He was so serious. "What is it?"

"Remember three weeks ago, we were out on the porch at your dad's wrapped in a million blankets, talking about identities?"

Her identity crisis. As if she was going to forget that emotional upheaval any time soon. Wasn't that why she'd taken vacation time? "Of course."

He looked down at his hands, and for the first time, Kate realized they were fiddling with a little box. The sharp intake of breath was completely involuntary.

"I was hoping you'd add one more title to that list," he said quietly.

"Rick…" she breathed. Despite the fact that she'd known this would happen, there was still a big part of her that couldn't believe this was her reality.

He popped open the box. "I got it when we were up here last time," he told her softly. "I was thinking you could add 'wife' to that list. My wife."

Her hands covered her mouth as she kept staring at the diamond set between two emeralds. She didn't have to ask about the significance.

"What do you say, Kate? Will you marry me?"

She didn't stop to think. She didn't have to.

"Yes."

* * *

_So, I know this is a good 2000 words shorter than the average chapter, but most of the things I wanted to cover were already covered. And this was really supposed to be a last injection of fluff anyway, both because we're all terrified for tonight's finale and because considering this story Kate and Rick kind of deserved it. _

_Now, potential bad news. Well, good news-bad news, I guess. There is a sequel. Or, the more appropriate phrase is probably 'will be'. I am going to tie both stories together since they take place simultaneously except not and it'll be a lot easier on my brain. Bad news is it won't be up for a while, both because I know the finale is likely to spark a HUGE influx of fic and, more importantly, because it's not planned in it's entirety. And because I'm actually taking on all four couples that have sprouted in this little universe, I want to make sure I can balance it all and deal with all of the issues that are going to pop up. _

_I'm aiming for a beginning of July post date, but it could be up as early as the end of June. _

_Lastly, I do want to thank everyone who took the time to leave a review. This one has been a little bit more of a roller coaster than most of the others, and I truly do appreciate the feedback I get from you guys. It means a lot to see what you guys think is believable and where you think I'm stretching the envelope just a bit. Most importantly though, thanks for reading this in the context of what's already occurred in this universe. You guys are surprisingly open to stretching the envelope with what's already been set up. _

_So thank you. And hopefully we're not all ready to kill the writers after tonight._


End file.
